


Aurency

by hikaru9, Z A Dusk (snakeandmoon)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: AU - human (sort of), Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Aziraphale is human, Blow Jobs, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is a Fallen Angel, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fallen Angel Crowley (Good Omens), Fallen Angels, Falling In Love, Fate & Destiny, First Kiss, First Time, Guardian Angels, Happy Ending, He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), Historical - Victorian, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rimming, The Bookstore, They/Them Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), Top Crowley (Good Omens), and the author regrets nothing, corporal punishment (brief mention), look they just want to have sex a lot, past torture (brief mention), sex with invisible Crowley, well that's a tag now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:27:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25182472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikaru9/pseuds/hikaru9, https://archiveofourown.org/users/snakeandmoon/pseuds/Z%20A%20Dusk
Summary: Asa Fell has known from childhood that he’s supposed to be an Aurent – a seer of angels. His failure at Aurency is just one more thing his family is disappointed in. He’s never attempted to invoke his Guardian. He doesn’t want to add yet another item to their litany of things he’s failed at. But when his bullying landlord Gabriel threatens to take his beloved bookshop from him, Asa, with nowhere left to turn, invokes his Guardian.Nothing could have prepared him for Crowley.Crowley was created to be a Guardian. He knew from the very beginning that it was his duty to stand beside his Aurent, and protect and guide them. He knows it’s a sacred bond that goes both ways. When he falls from Heaven, he resigns himself to the fact that no-one will accept him as a Guardian.Nothing could have prepared him for Asa.Can a fallen Guardian and an emotionally buttoned-up bookseller learn to love and be loved? Or are their two worlds simply not meant to collide?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 408
Kudos: 464
Collections: Bittersweet Good Omens, Good Omens Mini Bang, The Aurency Collection, Top Crowley Library





	1. The Book

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Do It With Style Events mini bang!
> 
> This fic is complete (ok ok you got me, I'm still working on the epilogue) and a new chapter posts every Wednesday and Friday. Hit the subscribe button to be the first to know when a new chapter drops!
> 
> Art by the incomparable [Wargoddess9](https://wargoddess9.tumblr.com/) \- thank you for making this collab such a delight!
> 
> Eternal thanks to [Mira Woros](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraworos) for the outstanding beta work. Couldn't have done it without you!
> 
> And thank you to the mods for running this event so smoothly and making it so fun to be part of! You all are amazing.

**Edinburgh 1874**

* * *

Asa Fell was tidying the last of the Restoration-era poetry, which had fallen victim to over-enthusiastic customers who simply had no idea how to tidy up after themselves, when there was loud hammering on the door of A Z Fell, Bookseller. 

“I’m afraid we’re quite definitely closed,” he called, hoping that would be an end to it. 

He’d long since planned the afternoon as a quiet period for re-shelving. He’d sent Tracy home at the end of her morning shift, and made himself a hearty lunch of thick cheese sandwiches with pickled onions to sustain him.

When the hammering only got louder, Asa sighed, put his stack of books down, and opened the shop door with an almost-polite smile.

“I’ll be open again tomorrow morning -”

The words hid themselves away at the unwelcome sight of Sanders standing in the doorway.

“Ah, Mr Sanders. I assume Mr Driscoll sent you?”

Gabriel Driscoll, his landlord, was an unpleasant, patronising sort. He’d made it very clear from day one that he expected to be obeyed, and that he saw his tenants as less desirable than scavenging rats. But the rundown shop was all Asa could afford back then, so he’d made it work. More or less. He’d quickly learned that half-truths and a certain amount of prevarication were the only effective ways to deal with Gabriel.

“Mr Driscoll told me to give you this.”

Sanders shoved a piece of paper against Asa’s chest, far harder than necessary. Asa glanced down at it, and his heart stuttered with fear.

“Eviction? I don’t understand ... I’m up to date with my rent, and I always pay on time.”

“Got someone interested in buying the place. I’d make sure it’s in good nick for them to view. You wouldn’t want the boss sending me round again, would you?”

“He can’t!”

He could though, and they both knew it. With a nasty smile the stout, bald enforcer was gone, leaving Asa alone, and suddenly feeling exquisitely lonely. Shivering, he closed and locked the door, and retreated into the backroom of the shop. The shelving would have to wait till tomorrow.

Hot chocolate. That would help settle his mind so he could think through what to do. The ritual of grating the chocolate, combining it with milk and water, and boiling and whipping the mixture, helped stave off the worrisome thoughts which so often plagued him. It kept his hands busy, too, stopping his nervous habit of twisting his fingers together.

Feeling marginally calmer, Asa sweetened the chocolate with some sugar, and sat down in his favourite chair, a rococo revival style with frayed red and gold upholstery, and carved wings on the legs. The wings were the reason he’d bought it. Asa might be terrible at seeing angels - which as an Aurent he was supposed to do - but he still found the symbolism comforting. He looked around at his shop with its Georgian sash windows, gas lamps burning cheerfully in their brass sconces, and shelves lined with books. He couldn’t bear to imagine his life without it.

Asa wrapped his hands firmly around the cup to stop them shaking. There had to be something he could do. He’d got this far on his own. He’d rented the shop eighteen years ago on the tiny bequest left to him by his adored aunt Agnes. Since then, he’d worked diligently to build the stock and keep the shop afloat. He’d transformed the damp, unkempt premises into a warm, comforting shopfront and home on a tiny budget, and he’d done it with no support from his immediate family. He couldn’t give up now.

Truth be told, he had no idea what to do. There was no way he could raise the kind of money Gabriel would demand for the shop, assuming he was even willing to sell it to Asa. He supposed he would simply have to find new premises to rent, though how he was supposed to afford to relocate, stock and all, didn’t bear thinking about. Perhaps he should just sell off his collection and start over … no that was unthinkable. Having to occasionally sell one of his beloved books to customers was bad enough. Asa was secretly quite grateful that most of his business came from rich collectors who wanted him to track down a specific volume. The rest of his stock was more or less a personal collection that he parted with only when he had to. 

He glanced lovingly at the pile of books on his desk, and the volumes stacked around the base of it. Then a sudden thump made him look up in confusion. Nothing seemed to be moving or out of place. Yet bookshops were not in the habit of making random thumping noises without cause. 

Asa set his hot chocolate aside and wandered in the direction of the sound to find a book that had been resting flat on his desk, far from the edge, had fallen open and face down on the floor. 

_ How odd _ . 

When he discovered which book it was, he felt a twinge of guilt and worry. He’d be devastated if the precious volume had been damaged by the tumble. Asa took care of all his books - he had standards, after all - but the Book of Aurency was special. 

Scooping it from the floor, Asa smiled as he ran his fingers over the familiar green leather cover with its gold foiled letters, relieved that the book was undamaged. All Aurents were given a copy of the book when they turned twelve, but Asa’s copy was unusual.

Of course, the book was supposed to be a practical guide. But dear aunt Agnes, the only adult in his life who’d been kind to young Asa, had gone beyond the call of duty. She’d compiled all her own notes from her years of Aurency into footnotes, margin notes, and even additional pages, to guide him. Asa would usually feel a little faint at so much as a dog-eared page in a book, but there was something endearing and precious about Agnes’ embellishments. It made the book utterly unique, as strange and oddly lovely as a misprinted bible.

Asa’s mother was an Aurent - a seer of angels - and as the skill had been passed through her family for generations, so Asa should have had the gift. That he didn’t was a source of deep disappointment to his parents, an opinion which they were not reticent about expressing. 

Even now, at 48 years old, he found the book comforting, despite not being able to use it for its intended purpose of summoning angels. Revisiting it was his secret pleasure, even more delightful than his annual reading of A Christmas Carol. He loved the arcane-sounding prophecies, the intimate stories of Agnes’ own experiences with angels, the charts and sketches and lists of instructions for complex-sounding rituals.

Not that Asa had tried any of those. It was the duty of an Aurent to summon their Guardian - the rank of angels that Aurents could see, although a rare few had seen angels from other choirs, too - and bond with them. The problem was, Asa was an Aurent by blood, but certainly not by ability. Even smaller spells had fallen flat when he tried them. He didn’t dare attempt a summoning - what was the use when he couldn’t even complete the spell to sense angelic presence? Or master automatic writing? He’d already failed his parents in so many ways. He didn’t want to add the shame of failing such a sacred ritual to his black record.

Asa carefully turned the book over, to see which page it had fallen open to.

“Ritual for summoning your Guardian,” he muttered under his breath. That the book had fallen open right there meant nothing. Merely a coincidence, of course. 

But he did rather desperately need assistance. Perhaps it was worth trying.

Dragging the ornate rug with its woven feather pattern aside, Asa used chalk to carefully copy the odd serpentine sigil from the book onto the wooden floorboards. Placing the book in the centre of the sigil, he lit a thick pillar candle at each cardinal point. Then, as per the instructions, he added a feather and a bell to the tableau. Thankfully, being a lover of quill pens meant he had plenty of feathers about the place.

Standing in the circle, Asa rang the bell once, then recited Agnes’s words:

“Guardian of mine, come to my side, for I am ready for thy presence and my heart and mind are open to thee. Protect me from harm, O Celestial One, for I am thy loyal servant, just as thou must be mine.”

He felt a little silly saying the words, though he couldn’t deny they sent a chill up his spine. When nothing happened, he returned to the book. “Mayhap thy angel will appear before ye,” Agnes had written, “Or perhaps he will make himself known in subtle and unexpected ways.”

Asa was relieved when nothing happened, but truth be told, he was a little disappointed, too. The whole thing was quite anti-climactic. There was no flash of lightning, no cacophony of strange sounds. There was only the same damp, chill air that the bookshop always had in January. With a slight laugh, Asa replaced the rug, turned down the gas lamps, and made his way to his bedroom above the bookshop to continue reading Agnes’ book. When a rush of air and a sound like ruffling feathers followed him, he put it down to his own active imagination. Taking out his shortbread stash from under the bed, he settled to an afternoon of reading, and fretting about his future.


	2. The Fallen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hell is dank and brutal and miserable, a place where the time is always either too early, or too late.
> 
> Crowley, a newly-fallen Guardian is trapped there forever, or so he assumes. His new bosses don't seem to care much what becomes of him, but even if he wanted to escape, he couldn't. His only ticket out of Hell is being summoned to earth by his intended Aurent. But surely there's no way his Aurent could call him now he's fallen? And even if they could, who would want a fallen Guardian?

Crowley sighed as he flopped into a terribly uncomfortable chair that seemed to suck at his clothes, and leaned his head back against the damp stone wall. His leg was blazing agony, and there was very little chance of finding water to bathe it with or any balm to soothe the ragged edges of the wound. Apparently, questioning was about as welcome in Hell as it had been in Heaven. 

Crowley inhaled sharply as he pulled himself back up to a standing position to get away from the chair, which seemed to have developed small teeth and was trying to gnaw at the backs of his thighs. He had no idea how long he’d been down there. The giant clock in the main office, with its shrill, mechanical ticking that seemed designed to torment the damned, only had two times: Too early, and too late. It felt like he’d been there for eons, though it could easily have been days. Hell was freezing cold and yet hot enough that sweat dripped from his brow. It was hard to believe his compatriots here had ever been angels, for now each of them looked ragged and dirty, and communicated mostly to bark orders, make accusations, or give unearthly moans of distress.

It was crowded and terrifying and Crowley honestly didn’t know how he was going to survive the rest of eternity there.

The worst part, though, was the jagged, broken hole in his energy where his Grace should be. He hadn’t always agreed with God, but he’d always felt Her presence inside him, like a North star that kept his soul pointing towards home. As a Guardian, he’d been created to be extra obedient, in preparation for finding and bonding with his Aurent. From the first day of his creation, he’d heard tales of the humans, of how since time began, the Aurents had lived among them as ordinary people, with the exception of being able to see angels as easily as humans saw each other. There was one Guardian for every Aurent and it was considered a great honour to be among the only class of angels allowed that depth of connection with anyone except the Almighty.

An unbreakable bond with a human whose soul was the perfect shape to fit your own, with the promise that after they died they would be allowed access to a special plane of Heaven, so you could stay close with them for eternity. That was the responsibility, the burden, and the joy of being a Guardian.

All of that had been torn from Crowley along with his Grace. Sometimes he wondered what would become of his Aurent. Had She even thought of that before throwing him out of Heaven? Had She considered the damage She would be doing to an innocent human?

Probably not. If She was comfortable with hurling her angels into boiling sulphur, She probably wasn’t too concerned about leaving one solitary human without their Guardian. Once or twice since his fall Crowley had given up his pride for a moment and begged God for an answer, pleading with Her to tell him her great plan and reassure him that his Aurent would not suffer. 

He’d even tried to bargain with Her to make his Aurent a new Guardian, so at least only one of them was condemned to a life of pain and loss. She hadn’t responded, obviously. They both knew the one Aurent, one Guardian rule was immutable. The irony that questioning the wisdom of that had got him thrown into boiling sulphur and separated from his intended Aurent in the first place, made his insides twist and ache. 

Crowley winced as he tore off part of his robe and used it as a makeshift tourniquet. He’d only asked Hastur, who’d been in Hell longer than Crowley, whether he needed to report to anyone specific. The whole slicing his leg open thing had been a total overreaction. 

When a sensation like a sickeningly discordant bell ringing under his ribs left Crowley gasping in pain on the floor, he realised his question had been answered. He’d been summoned via direct orders that tore through his corporation, dropping instructions straight into his brain like icy fog, and telling him where to be immediately if he didn’t want to suffer further agonies.

Beelzebub’s office was about as pleasant as the rest of Hell. The walls were damp and slimy, and papered with notices bearing phrases such as “this is going to hurt” and “bones were made for breaking.” The desk was made of wood that looked and smelled like it had been dipped in excrement and left to dry, while a set of chains dangling from the ceiling hinted that performance reviews went ill for some people.

“Yes?”

Crowley tried to sound nonchalant. He was still working out which attitude was most likely to guarantee his continued survival. When a sudden jab of pain speared under his ribcage, he realised he’d got it wrong. “Yes … Lord Beelzebub?” he tried, and this time no pain came.

“Crowley.”

Beelzebub examined him as if sizing him up for a snack. Crowley had barely known them as an angel; they’d exchanged a few words at a meeting once. Even so it was hard to reconcile the proud, sharp angel with the piercing eyes and regal bearing with the fly-covered, bored-looking creature in front of him now.

“The only former Guardian in all of Hell. Never would have thought a Guardian would have it in them to be that rebellious. I’ve been searching for an appropriate use for your … talentzzz.”

Crowley shuddered at the cold look in their eyes. Beelzebub had been Lucifer’s right-hand rebel, and now they were clearly his right-hand enforcer. 

“For now, your role will be to assizzzt Hastur in any way he tells you to, until I think of a good use for you.”

Crowley nodded. He was quickly learning to speak - or not speak - as it pleased Beelzebub best. But one question was hammering inside his skull, and the words were out before he could stop himself.

“What happens if my Aurent calls me somehow? Will I hear them? Can I still bond with them?”

He regretted the questions immediately. What a perfect way to show his new, twisted, boss where his vulnerabilities and deepest desires lay. Beelzebub laughed. And kept on laughing, peals ringing out like iron flies buzzing against a chalkboard. 

“Crowley, Crowley, Crowley. If your Aurent is ridiculous enough to accept a filthy snake like you as their Guardian, they’re welcome to you, with my most heartfelt damnation.”

Seconds later Crowley found himself sprawled on the dank, smelly floor outside the office. Apparently the meeting was over.

Defeated, Crowley withdrew to the most private room he could find, and wept quietly, every fibre of his being crying out for his lost Aurent, now abandoned to a life of loneliness and no Guardian to care for him. 

A few days later, Crowley was in the midst of filing endless stacks of paper that had a bad habit of transforming into spiders without so much as a by-your-leave, when he felt a strange new sensation in his chest. At first it felt like fire under his skin, hot and prickling. Then it changed, new layers forming atop the original sensation, until it felt like nothing so much as seeing a candle burning in a window, welcoming one home after a long trip. There was a sudden scent of woodsmoke, old parchment, and wildflowers, and then Hell was simply … gone. In its place was a tiny, cluttered bookshop with a summoning circle drawn neatly on the floorboards, and a worried-looking man in the centre.

Crowley looked around, stunned. Had he fallen asleep? Was he dreaming? Was this was some intricate new method of mental torture?

No, it was definitely real. Crowley could feel the breeze leaking around the window frames, battling the faint ambient heat of the gas lamps for dominance, and he could smell the scent of old books and recently-made hot chocolate. The bookshop around him was tiny and cluttered, but clearly well loved. There were stacks of books leaning against the furniture and piled on chairs, as if they were friends that their owner couldn't bear to keep up on the shelves for too long. Red and gold brocade chair coverings, a thick and obviously well-preserved leather inlay on the writing desk, and the ornate brass drawer handles and sconces, lent an air of faded elegance. 

Crowley couldn’t help a small smile at the sight of the wing motifs on the rug and chair, but how could this possibly be? He felt like a small raft set to sail on a confusing sea. How could any Aurent still call him, after his fall? Had God made a mistake? Could he still be a Guardian after all?

“Protect me from harm, O Celestial One, for I am thy loyal servant, just as thou must be mine.”

The man before him said softly with a gentle, refined Scotish lilt, and though he spoke with clarity and intent, his eyes told a story of loss and sadness. He seemed quite certain the ritual wasn’t going to work, and suddenly Crowley’s heart hurt desperately. 

Crowley winced as his core automatically reached for the Grace that was no longer there. Of course he couldn’t use Grace to make a connection. But he had to do something - no matter how improbable, if there was any chance at all that this man was his Aurent, it was Crowley’s duty to take care of him. He stepped closer and, without thinking, ghosted his hand over the man’s starlight-pale hair. Nothing. It was as if Crowley wasn’t there. It was quite normal for one’s Aurent not to see their Guardian until after the Seeing, the second ritual, but most could hear them and feel them at the Summoning.

“I’m here,” he ventured, placing his hand on the Aurent’s shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. “What’s your name?”

Still nothing. Crowley ached for the man in front of him. The Summoning was supposed to be such a joyful thing, and Crowley knew all too well how it felt when something that should be joyous turned lonely, cold, and cruel. The man bowed his head while Crowley helplessly rubbed his back in a soothing way that he knew wouldn’t register, while his own hopes turned to ashes in his chest. What use was any of this, what did it matter if this man was his intended Aurent, if he couldn’t even hear Crowley?

Crowley took a long look at the man standing in front of him, searing the image into his memory in case this was the only time he would be allowed to see the one he was created for. His clothes, like the bookshop, had a faded elegance that told Crowley he was careful and neat. The slightly worn fawn-coloured waistcoat and soft pale blue shirt with its arm braces perfectly complemented his gently corpulent frame and light blonde hair. He was beautiful. He had kind, if slightly stubborn features, and the way the candlelight drew highlights from his pale hair made Crowley think of the stars he loved so much. He was everything Crowley had wished for, when he considered who his Aurent might be. 

“Is it you?” Crowley said softly to the tense figure in the circle. “Were you intended to be mine?”

Without answer, without even acknowledging Crowley’s presence, the Aurent quietly put the materials for the ritual back into his desk, picked up what looked like a very well-loved copy of the Book of Aurency, and headed towards the stairs, leaving Crowley standing alone in the pale afternoon light of the bookshop. But as he set foot on the first stair, he hesitated, looking back to where Crowley was standing, with a question in his eyes. Crowley’s heart soared for one hope-charged moment. Could he sense him after all? But then the Aurent sighed and shook his head, as if dismissing his own foolish thoughts, turning to climb the stairs and leaving Crowley behind, colder and emptier than he’d ever been in Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates every Wednesday and Friday - stay tuned, and hit that subscribe button to be the first to know when the new chapter drops!
> 
> Comments are fuel for hard-working authors! Let me know what you think :)
> 
> I'm always up for talking about Good Omens - find me on [Tumblr](http://zadusk.tumblr.com).


	3. The Summoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Asa experiences an unexpected run of good luck, he wonders if his Guardian is making their presence known. When a night out almost ends in tragedy, Asa finally gets some of the answers he's been seeking.

Asa was having a particularly lucky day, which seemed quite incongruous with the previous night. He’d stumbled across, of all the confounded things, a rare first edition of Pride and Prejudice sitting quite happily among a pile of used books in a sale up on Candlemaker Row. A pair of bright-eyed young newly-weds were selling off their possessions in preparation for a wild adventure sailing to the New World. Scarcely able to believe his luck, he’d carried it home as if it were an exotic bird, half afraid that someone might try to steal it. If he could bear to part with it, the money would help his cause immensely – though whether he could bring himself to do so was quite another matter.

On arriving back at his bookshop on Princes Street, he found that not only had Tracy taken over his unfinished shelving and done an admirable job of it, but she’d stopped at the delightful little bakery he loved in the Grassmarket and purchased a batch of his favourite crystallised ginger and apple petit fours.

Even the book collectors that called by were searching for the volumes he was most willing to sell, rather than the precious tomes he would hate to part with.

“You’re looking hale and hearty today, Mr Fell,” Tracy commented, as she served petit fours and Darjeeling tea. Asa paused. He felt far from hale and hearty after yesterday’s visit from Sanders, and the ritual had been on his mind all day. And yet despite it all, he had a general feeling of bonhomie towards the world that he simply couldn’t explain.

“Ah, just a good day I suppose. I do, however, have some sobering news to share with you.”

By the time he’d finished relaying what had passed between himself and Sanders, Tracy’s usually rosy cheeks were wan. 

“Oh, Mr Fell,” was all she said, but Asa could see the way her hands trembled despite her attempts to hide them by fiddling with her cup and saucer.

“Dear lady.” Asa reached out and put a reassuring hand on her wrist. “Whatever happens, for as long as I am selling books, you’ll be in my employ, I swear it.”

Tracy gave him a wavering smile in response and picked up her tea for another sip. But Asa meant his promise with all his heart. Tracy had been in his employ for a decade. With a sick retired military husband, whom she affectionately referred to as “the Sergeant,” to care for, Tracy’s future had looked harsh. Then she’d answered Asa’s advertisement for an assistant. The idea of women working was only just gaining acceptance, but Asa liked Tracy at first sight. She had a way of setting people at their ease and an almost psychic ability to help him track down the volumes his most generous clients were seeking. 

Asa paid her as well as he could afford to, and the two of them were friends as much as colleagues. If the Sergeant was unhappy about her being friends with a single man, Asa had heard nothing of it, and besides, he couldn’t help thinking that a few rumours about he and Tracy were preferable to rumours about his true proclivities, so long as no harm came to Tracy as a result. Given the potential for trouble, he supposed it was a blessing in disguise, really, that he’d never met the right man. Oh, he’d had a couple of flirtatious encounters, but they had never gone further than a stolen look or the brush of a hand. He’d never met anyone who stirred him deeply enough to take the risk. Sometimes in the long dark nights a small voice deep in his heart whispered that he was waiting for someone specific, but he dismissed such ideas as idle romantic fantasies in the light of day.

“Well, there’s no use looking for trouble before it finds us.” Tracy interrupted his thoughts, her smile brightening. “I don’t suppose it’ll be the end of the world no matter what happens. No, you sit and finish your tea, Mr. Fell. I’ll see about cleaning the philosophy section. There’s enough dust there to make a second carpet.”

Asa stared at Tracy’s back as she headed to the philosophy shelf. A few days ago he would have argued that losing the shop was categorically the end of the world, or at least his world. Now, though, well yes it would still be absolutely devastating. But there was something else growing in his chest, a sort of strange hope. Shaking his head at his own fancies, Asa finished his tea and busied himself with cataloguing.

The next day was just as bright. Mr Young, who owned the angling shop a few doors down, dropped by with some documents he’d inherited but had no desire to keep. Said documents turned out to be rare medieval manuscripts so valuable that Asa’s heart missed a beat. He told his mild-mannered fellow merchant as much, but Mr Young insisted that he had enough money and “no use for ‘em,” and so left them with Asa. 

It took two slices of fruit cake and three cups of Earl Grey tea (consumed far from the precious documents) before Asa felt anywhere near calm again. They would raise a pretty penny, and no mistake. Not enough to purchase his beloved shop, but certainly enough to ease the burden of relocating. 

When Tracy arrived bearing an unexpected gift of soft, fresh Crowdie cheese, Asa almost laughed at his luck. A farmer friend of hers had a surplus of it, she explained, so she’d kept some for herself and thought Asa might like the rest. Asa couldn’t have been more delighted. He’d agreed to provide the traditional dessert known as Cranachan to his Pickwick Club’s Burns’ Night Supper on the morrow. The fresh cheese would pair perfectly with the whisky and toasted oatmeal.

It was only after Tracy left that afternoon, and he closed the shop for the day, that Asa noticed a neatly wrapped package on the doormat, addressed to him. He picked it up and removed the brown paper, to find a smaller parcel inside, tied with pale cream and blue tartan ribbon. Opening the wrapping revealed an impossibly rare and perfect copy of Shakespeare’s first folio. 

“That’s impossible.” He sank into the chair beside his desk, staring at the precious manuscript. When he tried to speak again it took several tries, for his throat was as dry as brick.

“It is you, isn’t it?” He stood up as he spoke, addressing the seemingly empty shop as if he was performing to a packed house in The Globe. “Are you my Guardian? Oh fiddlesticks, I daresay I’m talking to an empty shop right now. If it is you, might you be able to give me a more definite sign? I don’t mean to be rude, and I am very grateful for your help so far, but I’ve never been good at Aurency, you see, so I am unsure … anyway, I am rambling, dear fellow. Or dear lady. Please, as you were.” 

Asa groaned inwardly. As you were? As if the poor creature were in his employ! He would hardly blame them for staying silent after that, he grumbled to himself as he sat down at the desk again, giving the folio a longing look before turning his attention to the more pressing text – the Book of Aurency. He first turned to Agnes’ note that his Guardian might show themselves in unexpected ways. Surely such a blindingly bright run of good luck would count as an unexpected revelation? The chapter on the Summoning, which Asa had read so many times he could recite it, talked of Aurents being able to feel their Guardian’s touch and hear their voice after, although it made no mention of being able to see them. 

Asa sighed. He certainly hadn’t felt or heard anything. Information on what else might happen after the ritual, or how to foster a connection, was frustratingly thin on the ground. Agnes had made several notes about her connection with her own Guardian, Sachiel, which had by all accounts been very positive. Even so, the book was heavy on the history and theory of Aurency and light on the actual experience of it. Trying to piece it together felt like playing a hand of Bragg in a dark room with a dealer who wouldn’t tell you the rules.

It wasn’t as if he could ask his parents. Their disappointment in his performance as an Aurent had been made very clear to him. No doubt they’d tell him that any lack of clear connection with his Guardian was further proof that he’d failed in multiple ways. As an Aurent, as a soldier, and as a son.

Frustrated, Asa put the book away and retired to bed, where he slept but restlessly, his dreams filled with strange visions of a huge mechanical clock, damp walls, and an incessant buzzing like a thousand flies.

* * *

As he hurried home from Deacon Brodie’s tavern the following evening, Asa couldn’t help the feeling that something extraordinary was about to happen. It was in the night air all around him, shimmering against the ink-black sky that arched majestically over Edinburgh Castle. He could almost feel magic in the frost-bright ground as he crossed the North Bridge, leaving behind the craggy reformation-era jigsaw puzzle of the Old Town and crossing into the calm Georgian elegance of the New Town. Ice crystals glittered on the wrought iron railings and the gas lights cast guttering shadows. Asa could have gazed at it all night, but Edinburgh in winter enjoyed temperatures that were not for the faint of heart, and as much as he adored his city, he was starting to think longingly of a hot cup of tea, and some thick bread toasted over the fire and spread with butter. 

The carriage rounded the corner so suddenly that Asa had no chance to step back, the world shrinking to a riot of screeching wheels, a sharp whip crack, and the panicked scream of a horse, its hooves sparking off the cobbles. He barely had a moment to wonder why on earth the driver was behaving as if he were in a chariot race, before strong hands were grabbing Asa under his arms and yanking him out of harm’s way.

He looked around to thank his rescuer, but there was no one to be seen. A gentle chill crept up Asa’s body from his feet to the top of his head, as if the ground frost had bloomed over him.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. “Let’s … let’s go into the shop.” 

After a quick glance confirmed that the carriage had continued its journey at a more sedate pace with both horse and driver apparently unscathed, he crossed the last few feet to his door. Opening it, he gestured with a polite “after you,” before catching himself and laughing. Still, just because he couldn’t see his Guardian didn’t mean it was permissible to be rude. With trembling hands, Asa shut and locked the door, and pulled down the blinds, before addressing the space in front of him. Somehow he knew his Guardian was standing right there.

“Thank you for the rescue.”

Silence. But there was something in the air, a charge, as if lightning had crackled through the shop just moments before. Asa caught a scent like gunpowder. It wasn’t exactly what he’d expected a Guardian to smell like, yet the scent filled his nostrils in a way that made him want more of it. 

“Please, can you do something to show me that you’re here? You … you have my permission, if you need it.”

There was a sound, the sound Asa heard the night of the ritual. A soft rustle, like feathers. Then Asa felt the unmistakable sensation of fingertips brushing his cheek. The touch was firmer than he’d expected, but gentle and hesitant. It felt as real as any touch Asa had ever known, and more romantic than any of them. 

“Oh, do that again … please.”

The words were out before he knew he was going to speak them aloud. Asa felt himself flush to the roots of his hair. What was he thinking, to address his Guardian so? But then coherent thought took flight as he felt the touch on his cheek again, lingering this time, almost caressing. Asa felt his legs go weak.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. And yet … and yet he wanted nothing more than to feel that touch again, and again. His skin suddenly felt impossibly hot and he could hear his blood rushing in his ears. Remembering his manners, he took a seat on the walnut-framed sofa tucked away at the back of the shop, making a gesture that invited his Guardian to sit beside him.

“Can you talk to me? Can I hear you?”

The silence was as long and pale as vellum being stretched. Then the unseen fingertips touched his hand, and Asa’s own fingers automatically twitched in response, closing around them. Oh. They felt as real and solid as his own. For a moment he forgot his request, unable to think of anything except the strange sensation of holding an unseen hand in his. The touch was warm, the fingers long and elegant. For a wild moment he wondered what would happen if he followed the shape of that hand and explored the rest of the entity attached to it. Could Guardians hear thoughts? Oh, he hoped not. This was so utterly inappropriate, and he was embarrassed.

“Please.”

His voice sounded small and faraway. There was another stretch of silence and then a voice, low and husky like a crackling fire, whispered, “Crowley. My name is Crowley.”

Asa felt a shiver pass down his spine, and he knew it wasn’t fear. There was something so primal about the voice; it made him think of lava flows and brilliant lightning against pitch black storm clouds.

“Crowley.” He relished the way the word felt in his mouth, like the smoothest red wine with a rich, oaky aftertaste. “Are you my Guardian?”

“Yes.” The voice was even closer now, so close to his ear he could have sworn he felt a puff of breath against his cheek.

“Should I be able to see you? The book isn’t clear on that point.”

“No. Aurents don’t usually see their Guardians at first. Aurents can see us only after the second ritual. And it’s only after the third that you’ll gain the ability to see other Guardians aside from your own.”

“Ah. I wasn’t aware of that.”

“Isn’t it in the book?”

Asa smiled as he thought of his precious copy of the Book of Aurency.

“No. Mine does have some extra notes from my aunt Agnes, but her way of thinking is abstract, to say the least. Reading her extra passages is fun, but it is also like trying to solve a complex word problem written by a woman with a vindictive mind and warped humour. I loved her though,” he added, with a genuine laugh this time.

“She was kind to you,” Crowley said simply.

“As are you. You have given me so much, I ...thank you ...” Asa trailed off, uncertain what to say. The enormity of the situation had his heart hammering, his chest tightening with both fear and wonder. Yet every time Crowley spoke, he felt a little calmer.

“You’re welcome.” 

The words were like warm honey dripping over toasted bread, and Asa suppressed a soft sigh.

“Tell me about these rituals?”

What he wanted to say was,  _ please touch me again while you do. Please let your hands roam as they will.  _ Shaking his head, he shoved the thoughts aside. He was surprised, and thrilled, when he felt Crowley’s hand resting over his once more as he talked.

“The ritual you did to call me here is the Summoning. It brings a Guardian to their Aurent and lights the spark of their connection. It gives me permission to act in your reality to some degree, to watch over you, and to touch you and make my voice heard.” 

“Did you try to talk to me after the ritual?”

There was a long pause, and Crowley’s voice sounded tense as he affirmed that he had.

“Took a while,” he added. “Not sure why the carriage made the difference. Perhaps you were more receptive, due to the panic of nearly being run down. Or perhaps the connection was stronger, because I was trying to save you from injury, rather than finding books for you. Either way, you can hear me now.”

There was another pause, but a companionable one. Then Asa felt Crowley’s long fingers brushing through his hair. He closed his eyes, as if that would hide the longing that filled him, leaning into the touch and struggling to bite back Crowley’s name. What was happening to him?

“Is this alright, angel?” Crowley sounded hesitant, but his voice was still warm and easy. Asa wanted to bask in it forever.

“Angel?” Asa said, as he opened his eyes again in question, while trying to ignore the giddiness bubbling in his chest. “Aren’t you supposed to be the angel?”

“Well, you have such pale hair and blue eyes. Not that all angels have those, of course. They come in all shapes and colours. Oh, damned if I know why, it just felt right. M’sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Asa squeezed Crowley’s hand reassuringly, and felt his Guardian squeeze back. “I liked it.”

Asa tried to tell himself that the dizzy sensations rushing through him were merely the wonder of accomplishing a connection at last, of finally succeeding as an Aurent. But he knew it was more. And as he let his fingers slowly explore Crowley’s hand until they reached the inside of his wrist, as he felt the way Crowley let their fingers twine, caressing Asa’s hand in response, he knew he wasn’t alone in feeling it.

Asa should say something. He was quite certain this was not normal. But it felt so right, as if Crowley’s presence filled something inside himself that he hadn’t even realised was hollow. As if he’d been waiting all his life to touch him.

“What’s the … what’s the second ritual?” He asked, fighting the urge to draw Crowley’s hand to his lips and find out if he could taste Crowley’s skin despite not being able to see him.

“The second ritual is the Seeing. It pulls one’s Guardian more fully into the physical realm, allowing them to take a corporeal form, albeit one that only the Aurent can see. It deepens the bond between Guardian and Aurent, and strengthens the Guardian’s powers.”

Asa nodded slowly, taking everything in. 

“And the third?”

There was a long pause during which Crowley suddenly withdrew his touch. Asa thought for a moment Crowley had left, and his whole body ached with the need for his return. Then Crowley spoke again.

“The third is the Binding. If both Aurent and Guardian agree, they perform this ritual to tie themselves together for eternity.”

“This … this ritual. Is it … inevitable?”

Asa could have sworn he felt Crowley tense.

“Of course not. It’s like a … like a wedding. I mean, it’s not like a wedding, Aurents can still marry. Ngk. What I mean is, both parties have to decide they want it, before it can go ahead. And one has to wait for a year and a day after the Seeing, to be certain.”

“Not like most weddings then, going by the way some poor souls get more or less sold for the right estate.” Asa said drily, and was surprised and delighted by Crowley’s laugh, both comforting and enlivening. He suddenly longed to hear it again, to be the cause of it. He wondered what his Guardian looked like.

“Do you have wings?” he asked suddenly, then blushed. “Oh, I know that sounds naive, as if I expect you to look like an angel from a festive greeting card. It’s just that Agnes made mention of Sachiel wrapping his wings around her and I suppose I hadn’t thought … I didn’t know if you would literally look like an angel.”

“Why, Asa, do you want me to wrap a wing around you?”

There was a teasing tone to the words that made Asa want to playfully swat at the speaker. But then he felt the light brush of feathers against his arm.

“Oh….” he reached as if to touch them, then paused. “May I?”

“Yes.”

Asa hesitated still, afraid to accidentally hurt his Guardian. Then he felt Crowley’s hand take hold of Asa’s own, guiding it down and moving it so Asa’s fingers brushed up and down what felt like long, smooth feathers. 

Neither of them spoke for several moments as Asa tentatively explored the shape of Crowley’s wing, the strength of it, the elegance of the arch, his fingers seeking out each nook and cranny and rubbing slowly over the planes of it. His heart beat faster every time he brushed his fingers against the unseen feathers. It was the strangest experience of his life, and he wasn’t sure which was most peculiar: that it felt so normal to be sitting there conversing with a preternatural presence he could not even see, or that it was sending bolts of sensation through his limbs and making his lower belly tighten in new and unexpected ways. 

Confusion chased fast on the heels of his growing pleasure, and when he felt Crowley’s long fingers curve over the arch of his shoulder, hot even through the layers of velvet and silk, he drew back as if Crowley’s touch had burned him.

“Do you … um … do you mind if we don’t do the second ritual quite yet? I should rather like to … to … get to know you first.”

“Whatever you like.”

“Thank you again,” he said, rather formally, as he stood up. Nothing in the book suggested that a connection with one’s Guardian could feel so physically, viscerally good, and Asa was confused. If it was unusual - if it was forbidden even - that was one more way in which he’d failed his family. Straightening his waistcoat, he addressed Crowley as he imagined one ought to address one’s Guardian on a first meeting, instead of acting like a fresh-faced youth with little impulse control.

“You truly have been a great help to me. I look forward to learning more about you. Good … goodnight, Crowley.”

There was a long, soft silence, before he finally heard the words, spoken so quietly he could easily have missed them. “Goodnight, angel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates every Wednesday and Friday - stay tuned, and hit that subscribe button to be the first to know when the new chapter drops! 
> 
> More beautiful art by [Wargoddess9](http://wargoddess9.tumblr.com) coming next Wednesday.
> 
> Comments are fuel for hard-working authors! Let me know what you think :)
> 
> I'm always up for talking about Good Omens - find me on [Tumblr](http://zadusk.tumblr.com)


	4. The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Asa and Crowley grow closer, Crowley knows the time is coming to tell Asa the truth - that his Guardian is really a fallen angel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [Wargoddess9](http://wargoddess9.tumblr.com) for the beautiful art that accompanies this chapter. See end notes for the full story of this piece and why I've been so excited to share it with you!
> 
> And thanks as always to [ Mira Woros](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraworos) for beta-ing this chapter into its best self and for teaching me the word clodpole!

_ Aren’t you supposed to be the angel? _ Of all the confounded things to say.

Crowley groaned. Asa was still upstairs - fast asleep, Crowley assumed - and here he was, pacing the bookshop and replaying every touch of his Aurent’s hands on his own hands, his shoulder, his wings.

He had to tell him, and that was an end to it. The Guardian-Aurent relationship was supposed to be founded on trust.

But, oh, it was so nice to be accepted, wanted even. Crowley almost wished there was another Guardian around that he could ask, but even if there were what would he say to them? “Caring for your Aurent means kissing them and never stopping, yes?”

Because that’s what he wanted to do. All he’d wanted to do since he’d felt Asa’s touch.

“Crowley?”

Asa emerged from the upstairs flat, already fully dressed, but with his sunlight hair sticking up at all angles from sleep.

“Are you here? I am just going to make myself some tea, might I fetch you something?”

“I can’t drink, angel,” Crowley told him, the nickname slipping out so easily. “No? Oh, I suppose not. Apologies, I’ve never met a Guardian before.”

Between the word and Asa’s gentle smile, Crowley felt like he was being stabbed in the gut. “The way I experience the world is rather ghostly,” he added by way of explanation, and because he wasn’t ready, he wasn’t ready, he needed a minute more.

“Ghostly? But I … felt you, last night.”

That shouldn’t have sounded as erotic as it did. Crowley took a breath to steady himself. “I can touch things, even sit or lie down, if we’re in the same building, or within ten or so feet of each other if we’re outside. I get a sense of how things feel. The spines of a book, the carpet … I can sense the warmth of a fire, or a hot drink if I touch the cup.”

“Ah, well then.”

Asa wandered off to the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a cup of tea for each of them, placing them on the ornamental table beside the sofa.

“Where are you, dear fellow? I don’t want to sit on you.”

Crowley laughed. “Side furthest from the teacups.”

“Well, that’s no good.” Asa moved the tea table closer, so Crowley could touch the warm cups, and Crowley felt his hell-hardened heart melting. Asa sat down beside him, his hand fluttering in the air for a moment, as if wanting to seek Crowley’s, before dropping uncertainly to rest on his own knee. “You can really only feel faint sensations, like heat from a cup? How do you … how did you save me from the carriage, how did you find me those books …?”

“I saved you by touching you, remember? I can touch  _ you _ . And I can sort of … lean on the energy of the world around me. Drop hints that it should flow a certain way.”

“You’re like a good luck charm.”

Asa smiled in his direction and for a moment Crowley thought he knew what it felt like to stand in the warmth of the sun.

“Something like that. I can do more after the second ritual, the Seeing,” Crowley added quickly. “I can act on your immediate reality better, and if you were hurt I could heal you.”

_ I think, _ he wanted to add. _ I think I can still heal and protect you, but no one has told me. No one knows. _ And that was the problem, wasn’t it? No one knew. All Crowley was certain about was the fact that he was going to love and protect Asa for all of his life and beyond, no matter what it took.

He just wasn’t quite sure how to do that, being fallen. First he needed to go back to Hell and make absolutely sure there wasn’t some kind of information about fallen Guardians buried deep in Hell’s archives. If there was something in the archives that could help, he needed it. If there was something that could be used against him or Asa, he needed to destroy it. Then, he needed an ironclad contract with Beelzebub to make sure Hell couldn’t go back on its word and rip him away from Asa if their bond worked.

Most importantly, he had to ensure no harm could come to Asa as a result of his Guardian being fallen.

“I should like to see you,” Asa said softly, interrupting his train of thought.

Crowley swallowed, his throat feeling dry. He was struggling to think of an answer, when there was a sharp knock at the door. Crowley saw dread flicker across Asa’s face at the sight of a tall, dark-haired man dressed in an expensive looking dove-coloured morning coat, charcoal pants, and a fine white shirt.

“Mr Driscoll. What an unexpected pleasure.”

“Quite. The Heralds – lovely family – are coming to Edinburgh next month. I shall want to show them around the shop before they purchase it, and I expect you to cooperate.”

Asa stood up straighter, looking his landlord (Crowley assumed) in the eye. “I hardly find this appropriate ...”

“I care not what you find appropriate, Sunshine. The shop is mine to sell, and I am selling it. I suggest you be on your best behaviour next month. I’d hate to see anything happen to your stock.”

“No.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Driscoll looked as shocked as Crowley felt. He’d only just met Asa, but from what he’d seen thus far, his demeanor did not indicate strength in conflict. Crowley felt a sudden rush of pride.

“I have been a good tenant, and taken excellent care of what was, frankly, a sorely neglected building. I will not be chased out. I demand time to find new premises and move my stock. I have a few loose ends to tie up, you know.”

Crowley wondered if he could use his influence to cause Driscoll a run of bad luck. Technically, he could only act in Asa’s reality, but surely making his slimy landlord uncomfortable would count as acting in Asa’s best interests. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone was keeping score any more. But nothing he dreamed up could have bested the look of utter shock on the man’s face at that moment.

“I … you … you will regret this,” he snarled and stalked out into the sleet-streaked morning as if he owned the city. Asa slammed the door shut, and turned to lean back against it with a sigh.

“Oh, what a clodpole that man is.”

“I’m so sorry about your shop, angel. I swear, I will keep doing all I can to stack the odds in your favour.”

“Thank you dear, I appreciate it. Now, I must open for the day. Is there anything I can do to make you comfortable?”

“No. Might pass the time here, though, if you don’t object?”

“Of course. That sounds quite delightful. If only you could affect the physical world a bit more, you might be able to scare away the customers. They do have a bad habit of wanting to buy my books.”

Nothing more passed between them that day. Asa served customers and chatted to his assistant Tracy and a young girl, Pepper, who ran errands in return for coins and toffee.

As evening fell, however, Asa spoke to Crowley again.

“I know we have much to talk of, but I confess myself quite exhausted. I might simply read for tonight, if that is alright with you? I could read to you, if you liked?”

Thus began a nightly tradition. After he closed the shop and ate a light supper, Asa read to Crowley. He always made him tea first, and added extra fuel to the fire. One day Crowley watched Asa open the door for a delivery, which turned out to be a thick knitted shawl in deep red and gold tones, nearly as big as a blanket, which he draped over Crowley’s space on the sofa.

“I thought if you could sense the warmth of tea and the fire, you might be able to appreciate the warmth and softness of this.”

“I love it, angel, thank you.” Crowley said sincerely, deeply touched by the gesture. 

And so they passed every night for the next three weeks. Asa read him essays, plays, treatises, novels … he seemed to want to give Crowley as wide a literary experience as possible. Crowley would sit beside him, one wing stretched around him just enough that Asa could feel it, and listen with rapt attention. 

Crowley loved to talk with Asa about anything and everything, but he quickly learned that if he nudged Asa towards literary topics, he would be treated to a variety of delightful rants and impassioned opinions. It mattered not to Crowley how much he knew or didn’t know about the authors in question. He simply loved to sit with his elbows propped on Asa’s desk, and listen to him talk. 

Sometimes they played chess or drafts, with Crowley telling Asa which moves to make on his behalf as he could not touch the pieces, and Asa teasing him by botching Crowley’s intended moves on purpose.

Occasionally, as the night drew on and Asa got more relaxed, he would linger over the words of a poem in a way that made the air around them crackle.

“ _Haply I think on thee, and then my state, (Like to the lark at break of day arising from sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven’s gate;_ ” he read one night, soft Scottish burr making the words sound extra inviting.

“Heaven’s gate, angel?” Crowley had teased. “Not likely to get much from singing there. All dust and fundamentalists.”

“And yet you say you’re my Guardian angel?”

“I said I was your Guardian. You can hear me, yes? So what else could I be? An aardvark?”

Asa had laughed and aimed a surprisingly accurate swat at Crowley’s leg with the book. But they couldn’t keep their talk to literature and food and what a scoundrel Gabriel was forever. One of them had to open the floodgate.

As it happened, that one was Tracy.

On this particular day, Tracy had brought meat pies from the pie seller in Princes Street Gardens, and she and Asa were enjoying the hot snack on a cold afternoon. Tracy was in a lighthearted and gossipy mood, telling Asa all about her friend Anathema and her lovely new beau, Newton.    


“Excuse my boldness, Mr. Fell,” she said, after they finished laughing over her tales of Newt’s inability to work anything mechanical, including counting machines, gas lamps, and even stoves. “But haven’t you got your eye on anyone? I can’t bear to think of you all alone in that little flat upstairs. Don’t you ever want company?

Crowley froze beside the bookshelf, as if Tracy could see him. He noticed the way Asa glanced around, a guilty look passing across his face, then coming back and camping there. 

“I … may be interested in someone.”

“Does this person know?”

Asa laughed and waved away her question. 

“Oh, no, dear lady. I am far too busy with the shop. Mr Driscoll is still quite intent on selling it, and though I have had quite a lot of luck with finding and selling rare editions of late, I am not quite in a financial position to resolve the issue yet.”

“I see.” Tracy put her cup down and studied Asa with a knowing look. “Well, I wouldn’t wait around dearie. You’re not getting any younger.”

Asa laughed at her cheeky remark, and they passed the rest of the afternoon companionably. The same could not be said for Crowley, who felt more restless in the hour it took Tracy to finish and go home than a snake that’s spied a mongoose heading its way. It was time. There was nothing else for it.

“Asa?”

He said as he walked across to the sofa, sitting down beside his Aurent, who was enjoying his customary post-work tea and shortbread. “Yes, Crowley?”

“Asa, when you told Tracy that you might be interested in ...”

Asa put the shortbread down and turned to face him with a serious look. “Of course I meant you, you ridiculous fellow. Who else could I possibly mean?”

Crowley smiled faintly and cupped his shaking hands around the cup Asa had placed on the table beside Crowley’s seat, close enough for Crowley to touch it. This was it.

“Asa … I must tell you something.”

“It’s quite alright Crowley. I understand if you cannot or do not wish to reciprocate.”

“Angel, no. I .. I reciprocate.” He reached out and took Asa’s hand. Asa must have felt his hand trembling, for he gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and a tiny sound of fear escaped Crowley’s throat. He’d grown to trust Asa so deeply, which he supposed made sense given that they were fated to be connected. Once the words were spoken, he would never be able to take them back. When Asa turned Crowley’s hand over and caressed the palm with his fingertips, it was all he could do not to beg his Aurent for forgiveness. But he was unforgivable. He’d let him believe he had a Guardian when all he had was an angel God no longer wanted.

“Have I done something wrong, Crowley? I … I thought I felt something between us the night we met, I … oh, perhaps I have simply been lonely for far too long.”

Something in Crowley snapped like ice breaking. He couldn’t let this lovely man believe he’d done anything wrong. 

“I’m not an angel,” he blurted out, then carried on talking, staring at the table so as not to lose his nerve at Asa’s expression, which he assumed must be one of horror. “I’m your Guardian, but I’m not an angel. I’m … I’m fallen. Like in the bible. Fallen angel. Evil incarnate, me.”

The flippant tone fell flat, the words far too heavy for it to bear them. Crowley was trembling with fear, and when he spoke again he could hear the tears in his own voice.

“Asa, I’m sorry, I am so sorry. I should have told you the very first night. I’ll go, I’ll … I’m sorry, you don’t have a Guardian. You don’t deserve this and I want to find you another, but … but it isn’t possible, God doesn’t give out spare Guardians you see ...”

“Oh, what a nonsense.”

Despite his soft tone, Asa looked angry, and Crowley couldn’t blame him.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Casting someone as lovely as you out of Heaven for not toeing the party line. Throwing people out as if they are merely detritus … it’s quite unholy if you ask me.”

He moved closer, so close that his thigh brushed Crowley’s.

“I do have a Guardian, Crowley. _You_ are my Guardian. And I would never want any other.”

“But I’m … you don’t understand.”

“Enlighten me, then.” 

“I’m fallen, Asa. God ripped out my Grace and flung me into burning sulphur. I’m as far as possible from what a Guardian should be.”

When Asa fumbled for his linen handkerchief to wipe away the tears that were now spilling from his eyes, Crowley felt as if his own heart were being bludgeoned.

“I’ll go.” He said again.

“You will do no such thing.”

Asa looked in his direction with that uncanny knack he had for meeting his eyes. His own eyes burned a fierce blue, like a star.

“You idiot Guardian. I’m crying because you were hurt … because someone threw the person I love into boiling sulphur, and I can only guess at how much that hurt, and how frightened you must have been.”

Silence blanketed the bookshop like fresh fallen snow. Several long minutes, thick with questions, passed before Crowley managed to speak.

“You … love me?”

Asa smiled then, the softest smile Crowley had ever seen.

“Yes, darling. I love you. I think I was half in love with you from the moment I heard your voice.”

“You don’t … you don’t worry that it’s not really love? That it was forced upon you?”

Asa shook his head.

“No. You were created to be my Guardian, not my lover. You said it yourself – Aurents can still marry. Guardians are not created to be romantic partners. God may have made you my Guardian, but your heart made you my love.”

“Don’t you mean your heart?”

“No, Crowley, I mean yours. Your wit and humour, how gentle you are with me, your wicked laugh, your sardonic comments, your warmth … your heart.”

“I … you … ngk.”

Asa laughed at that.

“Is that alright? May I love you? I care only for your opinion on the matter, no one else’s.”

Crowley wished his Aurent could see his eyes, to see the love in them.

“It’s more than alright, angel. It’s more than I ever imagined I could have.”

Asa sought his hand again then, and drew it to his lips, peppering soft kisses across the back, then turning it to press a long, burning kiss into the palm.

“Tell me what you look like?”

“Not like an angel.” Crowley managed a rough laugh.

“Come now. Tell me. You’ll feel much better, dear, when the truth is out, and you’re no longer worrying about it. I daresay you will enjoy the Seeing ritual better too, for not tying yourself in a knot over whether I’ll like your appearance.”

Crowley gasped. Did he mean he wanted to do the second ritual ….?

“It’s just my wings …. my halo … my eyes.” Crowley paused. How could he explain to Asa that although he knew his features and his long red hair were perfectly pleasing to look at, some aspects of his looks were constant reminders of all he’d been, and all he’d lost?

“What of them?”

“My … my wings aren’t white like an angel’s ought to be. They’re black.”

“They sound beautiful. I cannot wait to have them wrapped tight around me.”

“We can do that right now,” Crowley pointed out with a smile, wrapping his wing around Asa, who closed his eyes in pleasure and burrowed into it.

“Your halo, you said?”

“It .. .it’s broken. It’s supposed to be a circle,” he added, realising Asa didn’t know how a halo ought to look. “And it’s supposed to glow with divine light, especially in the centre. But mine is a crescent, as if part of it has been snapped off, and the centre is a dark well, an eclipse where my divinity ought to be.”

Asa ran his hands expertly over Crowley’s wing, as if he’d been touching him like that for years.

“I always preferred night to day. I am quite certain I shall have nothing but appreciation for your moon-shaped halo and its beautiful darkness.”

Crowley bit his lip, hardly able to believe this was happening to him.

“And what of your eyes? You seemed concerned about them.”

“They … before my fall they were blue. Deep blue, like an evening sky. Now they’re sulphur yellow, with slitted pupils like a snake.”

“How striking. I am sure I will love them.”

“Asa, I don’t know how any of this works. I didn’t expect to ever fall in love, even before I was expelled from Heaven. I don’t know if there are any rules. Hell doesn’t seem bothered whether I form a Guardian bond with you or not, but I dare not trust them.”

Asa went silent at that.

“Hell?” he whispered. 

Crowley squeezed his hand. “Yes, it exists as surely as Heaven does, and when I am not with you, I am there.”

“Oh, Crowley …. must you return? Can you not simply stay here with me at all times?”

“I … I could.”

“I insist.”

Neither of them spoke for quite some minutes.

“You said you never expected to fall in love,” Asa said quietly, at last.

“I did say that.”  Crowley couldn’t keep a gentle tease from his voice.

“Are you in love with me, Crowley?”

Crowley leaned close, resting his cheek against Asa’s so he could whisper into his ear.

“Ineffably.”

He felt Asa shiver. He wondered if he should tell his Aurent that he not only loved him, but wanted to touch him? That the way he interacted with the world had never bothered him before, because he’d never longed for touch until the moment he saw Asa standing in a candlelit circle? 

“Is it … alright with you that I, um … that I like when you … that I ...” Asa said with impeccable timing, saving Crowley from trying to find the words.

“That your heart races and your bosom starts heaving when I am by?”

“Oh, you! But … well, yes.” A blush stained Asa’s beautiful cheeks at the admission.

“Of course it’s alright. I feel the same way. My senses might be dulled, but I still know I want you.”

Asa flushed at that, looking down at the seat as if he might have hidden the correct response under a cushion.

“I’ve never. That is to say. My romantic experience extends to … well … to stroking your wing and holding your hand.”

“Really?” Crowley hadn’t meant to sound quite as surprised as he did.

“Yes, well, I know that makes me naive, but I have never found anyone who truly appealed to me, and even if I had, the risk of loving another man was quite a concern …”   
  
“I wasn’t judging you. First, your romantic history is no business of mine. And second, I don’t give a fig for how experienced or not you are. I was just genuinely surprised that no one has loved you as you ought to be loved.”

Asa shrugged at that, but Crowley caught the hint of a smile around the corners of his mouth. If ever there was a moment to be bold, this was it. Crowley moved closer, tightening the hold of his wing, tugging Asa to rest against his side.

“If you will let me, I would be honoured to be the first to kiss you and hold you and cherish you as you deserve. And if that does not appeal, please know that I am always and forever your Guardian … always and forever yours, if we’re truth telling.”

Asa turned to him then, his expression one of joy and wonder.

“Tell me, how do we do the second ritual? I want to be able to see you the first time we kiss.”

Crowley froze. He’d talked so easily about the second ritual but it hadn’t occurred to him to ask whether his fallen status would impact it. He told Asa as much.

“It didn’t impact the first ritual?” Asa ventured.

“True, but it did take several days and an errant carriage to make it work.”

“Ah well, that was most likely my fault, dearest.”

“How so?”

“I have never been skilled as an Aurent. A fact which my parents reminded me about every day until I left home, and still like to remind me of when I visit.”

“So you performed the ritual alone, having had no support or proper training from them, and somehow managed to summon a Guardian on whom the ritual surely should not have worked? Sounds more like you simply need to hone your skills. Or perhaps your skills lie in a slightly different direction.”

“Summoning devils instead of angels?”

“Asa!” 

The recipient of Crowley’s shocked cry gave his Guardian a cheeky smile.

“Really, dearest, you have been teasing me nonstop for weeks. Surely you couldn’t expect me to let such an opportunity pass by?”

“I … point taken. It’s as well that I love you, really.”

“And anyway, you’re  _ my _ devil.” Asa twinkled, reaching for his hand again. Crowley supplied it willingly.

“I … I do have some concerns,” he added after a moment. “I assume from the lack of information in the book, that the rituals are either passed from family to Aurent, or Guardian to Aurent. My family is quite useless, though I can try and glean information from them the next time I visit. But I would rather they not know about you yet. I loathe the thought of them interfering and judging. How well do you know the rituals?”

“Relatively well, but I don’t have anyone I can talk to about them.”

“I suppose not. Will you tell me more about what happened to you?”

“Of course. Might we … do that later, though? We can do it before the Seeing, of course, naturally you wouldn’t want to bond more deeply until you know my history ...”

“Dear me, no. Please stop talking as if I’m going to change my mind. I only meant that I want to support you. I want us to get to know each other more deeply, Crowley. Especially if we are to be bonded for life, and afterwards.”

“You think you might. You think you. Might want that. With me.”

“Given that I have never loved anything, not even the rarest books, as I love you, I should think so, yes.”

“Rogue,” Crowley teased and brushed his lips across Asa’s cheek. The Aurent closed his eyes and sighed. 

“You’re not making it easy to keep from kissing you.”

“I’m not trying to make it easy.”

“I will confess, I have wondered every night since we met how it would feel to explore beyond your hands and your beautiful wings, to touch your body and kiss your skin …”

“I’m yours, Asa. Now, after the second ritual, always.”

Asa paused for a moment, then his hand fluttered up, seeking Crowley’s face. Crowley took his hand and guided it. Asa stroked his face slowly, and oh, that touch, faint though it might be, was the most blissful thing Crowley had ever felt. Without thinking he turned to kiss Asa’s fingertips, eliciting a sharp gasp.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. That was wonderful. Oh, you must be so beautiful, your features are so fine.” He slid his hand further back until his fingers brushed into Crowley’s hair. Crowley sat silently, smiling as he watched Asa explore his hair, twining the waves carefully around his fingers until he finally reached the ends of the long strands, a few inches past Crowley’s shoulders.

“What lovely long hair, too. Strange. I had been imagining just such waves as these brushing my chest and collar as we ... um … have you always kept this style?”

Well, that was just too good to resist.

“What else have you imagined?”

Asa gave him the same look he gave customers who wanted to buy his rarest books.

“I’ve imagined you, too,” Crowley whispered in Asa’s ear, and felt him tremble. “Every day since I first saw you.”

Asa brushed his knuckles carefully along the line of Crowley’s jaw.

“I should go to bed, I suppose” he said, a little regretfully.

“Goodnight, angel.” Crowley said softly, not wanting to push.

“Unless… you would like to come upstairs with me?”

“Asa Fell, are you suggesting we … fraternize?”

That earned him a hearty laugh, and a deep blush.

“I really would like to wait until I can see you. However … if you. Oh, it’s a bit silly, I suppose. I’ve just … no one has ever held me and I would so very much like for you to … if you would like …”

Asa trailed off, and Crowley felt tenderness coming alive in his chest like a flower opening for the sun.

“I would love to.”

Crowley followed his Aurent up to the small flat above the shop, trailing him into his bedroom. Then at Asa’s shy request he lay in bed behind him, his head resting on thick feather-filled pillows, and his ghost-like body nonetheless enjoying the warmth of the thick comforter and several woven blankets. Asa was curled trustingly on his side with his back to Crowley.

“Dear fellow, I believe that holding me requires you to … well, hold me? Unless you have changed your mind?”

“Course I haven’t. It’s just that … I have never held anybody, either.”

“Well, then, let’s explore together.”

Crowley laughed and moved closer until his body was curved against Asa’s. There was a moment of shuffling as they figured out how to best fit together. When Crowley’s hand came to rest on Asa’s stomach, Asa’s body suddenly tensed.

“I’m sorry.” Crowley withdrew his hand as if the feel of Asa’s skin through the thick cotton of his nightshirt had burned it. Which it had, in a way. Crowley was quite certain his heart was skipping more beats than it was hitting. Thank goodness he didn’t technically need it.

“Oh ...it’s not that. It felt nice. Good, actually. I’ve never … been this close, you know. I am only rather aware that I hardly have a desirable shape.”

Crowley privately thought that if he just moved and pressed against Asa a certain way, there could no longer be any doubt of how desirable he was. But that seemed entirely too fast, and so he snuggled Asa gently and let his hand drift over Asa’s broad chest.

“Your shape is beautiful, and I would find a flaming sword and smite anyone who said otherwise. You are quite the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Well, you haven’t been on earth long,” Asa teased, but Crowley could hear the relief in his voice. He believed that Crowley loved the way he looked. He trusted him. It was a wonderful feeling, and one Crowley knew he would do anything to hold on to.

“You’re warm,” he murmured in his Aurent’s ear as he wrapped both arms protectively around him.

Asa gave a contented sigh that ended in a soft gasp as he wriggled backwards a little until their bodies were pressed closer together. 

“So are you.” He reached for Crowley’s arm, closing his fingers around it as if he could moor him there. As if Crowley would want to be anywhere else. Then he leaned over and blew out the candle, leaving them both in the darkness. “I have never felt as content as I do at this moment. Put your wing over me?”

Crowley gladly did so. Asa reached to caress his feathers.

“I can hardly believe you’re real.”

“You’ll believe it when you’re old and grey and I’m still following you around every day.”

There was a long silence.

“Crowley … what happens when I die? I was brought up to believe in Heaven and Hell, of course, but personally I’ve always taken a rather agnostic view of it all.”

“It really is the old judgement day, I’m afraid. Points added for feeding orphans, points deducted for philandering, that sort of thing. It’s … it’s a bit barbaric in my opinion, condemning people to Hell or rewarding them with Heaven on what seems to be a whim. I’ve seen good people sent to Hell, and monsters to Heaven. I hate it. God hasn’t thought it through. She’s only interested in the world as a plaything.”

“You spoke out about it. That’s why you fell.”

“I … yes. How did you guess?”

“Seems like something you would do. Try and protect people from such a system.”

Asa’s voice was calm, as if they weren’t discussing things no human should know, but Crowley felt him trembling slightly. Feeling helpless, he pulled him closer and cuddled him tight.

“I wish I had a better answer for you. Aurents have access to a special area of Heaven, so they need not be separated from their Guardian. But … I cannot get into Heaven. I don’t know what will happen. But I do know that I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe and make sure we are connected always. Who knows, perhaps we’ll leave the whole sorry lot behind and run away somewhere. Head for the stars. Loads of empty planets up there.”

“So long as we can stay together, we can cope with anything. I am quite convinced of that.”

Asa turned over then and flung his arm over Crowley’s waist, tucking his head into the crook of his Guardian’s shoulder. Crowley stroked his hair and pressed a soft kiss against his temple. As Asa’s breathing turned sleep-soft, he murmured a quiet “I love you” against Crowley’s collarbone, fingers clutching at his waist as if he couldn’t get close enough. 

Crowley knew then that if he still had his Grace, he would have surrendered it again, even knowing what that meant, for this moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Art Story Time!**
> 
> Since way before my first posting date I have been unbearably excited to share this chapter's art with you all!
> 
> Back in the dawn of time when Wargoddess9 and I had only just been introduced, she sent me some rough sketches (apparently - I'm pretty sure they were good enough to frame) of the characters, based on my first chapter and outline.
> 
> And when I say I fell in love with her version of Crowley, boy do I mean I fell. Like I still have a bruise I'm sure. She'd envisioned him so cheeky and sassy and self-assured that my entire heart melted. And the entire plot changed.
> 
> I'd originally plotted Aurency to be, well, as angsty as my other work. The main conflict was more about Crowley not telling Asa about his fallen status, and Asa struggling with loving a fallen angel. But after I saw Crowley, I knew he'd never keep up a pretense to Asa. So the whole reveal scene was moved to this chapter instead of nearer the end. And of course, Asa fell just as much in love with Crowley as I did - how could he not? The plot shifted to be much more about their love.
> 
> The sketch also inspired the scene in this chapter where Crowley is listening to Asa rant.
> 
> As any fanfic author knows, characters have a habit of doing what they want. This Crowley - who I christened The Cutest Crowley In All The Land - did exactly that. Angsty dialogue suddenly shifted as I typed it. He laughed when I thought he would cry. He was playful and funny and loving, and had a penchant for adding more smut than I'd ever planned to write!!! Asa was quite happy about that, and I hope you will be too (soon, soon.)
> 
> When I raved to Wargoddess9 about him for the eleventy-billionth time, she surprised me by inking that first sketch so I could put him in the story and share him with you all! He's been an absolute delight to write, and I hope you love his gorgeous, cheeky face as much as I do.
> 
> Wargoddess, I know I've said this a ton, but he really is a gift and Aurency would have been very different, and the poorer for it, without that first sketch, so thank you!!!!
> 
> *****
> 
> Updates every Wednesday and Friday - stay tuned, and hit that subscribe button to be the first to know when the new chapter drops!
> 
> More beautiful art by Wargoddess9 coming a week from Friday.
> 
> Comments are fuel for hard-working authors! I love hearing what you think of Asa and Crowley ♥
> 
> I'm always up for talking about Good Omens - find me on [Tumblr](http://zadusk.tumblr.com)


	5. The Brand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Crowley vanishes, Asa fears the worst. As Crowley wrangles some bad news, and Asa contends with his past trauma, questions about their future arise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warning** mention of past torture and current injury. It's not graphic but I've put a more detailed note in the end notes, in case you're more comfortable knowing exactly what to expect.
> 
> This is also the chapter which earned this fic its E rating, so keep that in mind before proceeding ;)
> 
> Thank you as always to [Mira Woros](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraworos) for being the best friend and beta I could ever ask for. And thank you to [ Wargoddess9](http://wargoddess9.tumblr.com) for her ongoing encouragement as I wrote towards the Big Art Piece, which is amazing, and which I get to share with you all next Friday!

Asa woke the next morning to cold sheets under his hands and a space where Crowley should be. Sitting up in bed, he tentatively spoke his Guardian’s name into the silence of his bedroom. Nothing.

Climbing out of bed, he dragged himself through his morning ablutions. He was due at his parents’ home for high tea at four o’clock. He dearly wished he could have Crowley with him for moral support. But more than that he was worried sick about his Guardian. He’d talked of Hell … what if he’d been dragged back there?

Ill with worry, Asa tried to busy himself with work for the morning. But after he’d spilled Earl Grey on a pile of books, somehow got soot all over the spines of the Mythology section, and broken two plates and a cup, Tracy made him sit down in the backroom while she held the fort.

As lunchtime came around and the shop got quieter, Tracy brought him fresh tea and a thick slice of her delicious homemade lemon cake.

“Nervous about the visit, Mr. Fell?”

Asa gave her a tired smile. “You really can call me Asa, you know, my dear. And yes, I suppose I must be.”

“Just you remember, whatever they say about you isn’t true. Being related doesn’t give them the right to judge or belittle you.”   
  
“Do come and tell that to my father, won’t you?”

Tracy laughed thinly. “I would if I could, Mr. Fell. I would if I could.”

There was a long silence, during which Asa thought about every negative thing his family had said about him. A disgrace, a failed Aurent, a failed soldier, unfit to be their son. He’d felt more confident that they were wrong since meeting Crowley. Every single moment with his Guardian had been magical - the kind of magic that was supposed to be an Aurent’s birthright, but which he’d feared he would never have. 

As to the feeling of Crowley holding him, well, Asa wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to that. Last night had been so intimate that he’d forgotten he couldn’t see his love, so focussed on the solid shape of him pressed close, and the weight of his magnificent wings. 

“You’ll be alright, Mr. Fell,” Tracy said, squeezing his hand. ”I’d best get on, but I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Indeed you will.” Asa pressed a tin of tea and a box of shortbread into her hands, insisting she take them as a thank you for the cake, and then locked the door behind her.

Oh, where was Crowley?

He was probably fine. Who knew what kind of business Guardians had to take care of when they weren’t with their Aurent? No doubt he’d be back soon. Yet as he tidied himself up for the visit, Asa couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that something was wrong.

*****

The short carriage ride to Yew Hall, his parent’s imposing baronial mansion five miles south of the city, did little to quell his anxiety. By the time he reached the door, his nerves were charred twigs, ready to splinter at any moment. What if Hell had trapped Crowley somehow? How would Asa find him? There wasn’t anything in the book about how to contact your Guardian if you lost them, or how to get to Hell, a place Asa was perfectly willing to go if it meant getting Crowley back.

Mrs Ida Fell’s disappointed sigh as she opened the door and looked over her son’s outfit did little to lift his mood.

“I suppose you’d better come in. You’re only just in time. I was about to tell Cook to serve tea without you.”

“I am quite sure I would have survived. Cook’s scones were always a little dry for my taste.”

His mother gave him a look as if he’d just cut the ears off her prized Skye Terriers. Then she turned on her heel, and stomped into the parlour. 

Ida Fell liked her high teas both elegant and substantial, so there was always a savoury dish to start, in this case small meat pies with a thick crust and an admittedly delicious gravy. Asa attempted to make small talk during the first course, but his mother was never very talkative with him, and his father, Michael Fell, had little interest in his son’s doings other than to interrogate him or bark orders. Neither of which Asa was in the humour for that day.

“How have you both been?” he asked, trying for politeness. 

“Tolerably well,” his mother replied stiffly. “Our friends, the Heralds, are visiting next week. I assume Mr Driscoll mentioned it.”

Asa felt a cold pit opening in his stomach as he remembered the letter he’d received just that morning from Mr Driscoll’s lawyers, Redfearn and Bychance. The letter stated in no uncertain terms that the Heralds would be viewing the shop the following week, and Asa was expected to be present to show them around and answer their questions.

“You knew about their visit? And you never thought to tell me?”

“I hardly saw the need. It’s Mr. Driscoll’s duty to inform you of matters relating to your tenancy, not mine.”

Asa set his teacup down lest he throw it at her. 

“Then I assume you know their intent?”

“I suggested the purchase to them,” Michael said calmly from behind his paper.

“You … you suggested it?”

“Son, you are 48 years old. It’s high time for you to get out of that dusty, damp bookshop and do something with your life.”

“So your answer is to steal my livelihood and leave me penniless, without a property from which to run my business, which has been ticking over nicely for years?”

“My answer is to galvanise you into action. Perhaps you will finally join the church, or get a teaching post. Anything to prove your worth.”

Asa felt tears of shame stinging his eyes, but there was anger in him too. A new, stronger, part of him urged him to get up, walk out of the house, and not subject himself to their abuse any longer. But he had promised Crowley he would try and glean more information, and that is what he planned to do. Slathering butter on a hot crumpet, he took a deep breath, and a fortifying bite of said crumpet, and asked the question.

“Mother, I wonder if you might tell me anything about the second and third Aurency rituals? As I’m sure you’re aware, the book only covers more minor rituals and the first summoning.”

His father lowered his copy of  _ The Scotsman _ at that, glowering at Asa.

“I thought your mother had made it perfectly clear some years ago that she wasn’t interested in discussing those rituals with you, boy.”

“Yes, father, but things change. As I grow older I find myself wanting to learn more about my heritage.”

“Heritage!” Michael Fell spat, putting his paper down and jabbing a finger at Asa. “How dare you talk to me of heritage! You cast our family’s glorious military heritage aside when you were dishonourably discharged. The  _ shame _ of it. You’re fortunate we allow you back into this house at all.”

His father picked his paper back up and shook it out firmly, raising it in front of his face once more. Asa turned to his mother with what he hoped was a calm, open expression.

“Mother, I realise my skill in Aurency was not what you hoped, but I should like to learn more. Perhaps I might attempt the rituals. Especially if I am apparently to move on from my career as a bookseller.”

Ida lowered her teacup slowly, speaking to him as if he was a particularly dense child.

“I am sure you recall quite perfectly my attempts to guide you in the ways of Aurency throughout your adolescence.”

Asa certainly recalled the rap of a cane across his knuckles, or the back of his thighs or shoulders, when he failed to do the minor rituals.

“Asa,” she sighed, as if tired of explaining his shortcomings to him. “You failed as a soldier. You failed as an Aurent. You didn’t even have the decency to follow the path we’d laid out for you into the church. Now your life is passing you by, and what have you to show for it? To make us proud? Nothing, that’s what.”

Asa felt the familiar burn of the old scar on his hip, awakened by their reminder of the shame it represented. He was used to being cowed by them, staring at the table and listening to their tirade. But something else was stirring in him. Something that said he was worthy of kindness, that the fact they were his parents did not give them the right to abuse him every time they met.

“If my existence is so abhorrent to you,” he said calmly. “Then why do you still invite me here?”

“You are our son. One does not simply cease contact with one’s child. Even one who has brought disgrace on the family,” Ida said stiffly. Michael’s silence from behind his paper spoke volumes. He tolerated Asa for the sake of his wife. 

Something in Asa died at that moment; the longing for his parents to see his inherent value. He rose from the table, standing in the ashes of that child’s hope.

“I will not be merely tolerated by my own family. All my life I have done my best to please you, but it has never been good enough. It is you who have failed me, by not providing the love every parent ought to give their child. Do not contact me again.”

With that, Asa strode from the house, summoned the carriage, and requested to be returned to the city. As they drove away, he didn’t look back at Yew Hall, and despite the tears spilling down his face, he felt freer than he could recall feeling before.

He also felt his concern for Crowley growing in magnitude. When he got back to the shop and there was still no sign of him, Asa was beset by panic. 

“Crowley? Dear, where are you? Oh, if you are in trouble I hope you can let me know. Wherever you are, I’ll come to you, somehow.”

Asa barely slept that night, his dreams fitful and disturbed. At three o’clock in the morning, he gave up trying and simply reread the Book of Aurency in the hope of finding some clue what to do next. There was nothing. The bookshop had never felt smaller, colder, or more lonely than it did without Crowley’s warmth and laughter.

*****

The following morning was Sunday. Asa normally enjoyed the day of quiet with no customers, but he could hardly persuade himself to get out of bed. The thought of Crowley hurt or in trouble, and having no way to get to him, was hard to bear. He hadn’t the heart to light the fires, or eat anything. He couldn’t even get dressed. He spent the day in his nightshirt, paging through Agnes' book until the words blurred and muddled in his mind. By the time evening drew in, Asa wasn’t sure whether to light a candle and keep reading, or simply go to bed and try to face the world anew the next day.

Before he could resolve the question, he heard the most wonderful sound.

“Angel?”

“Crowley!”

Asa rushed towards Crowley’s voice. Pausing, he stretched his hand out. 

“Where are you, dear?”

“Here.” Warm fingers grasped his hand. They both spoke at once, words tumbling out.

“What happened? Asa, what’s wrong? Why are you sitting here with no fires lit? Did something happen?”

“Crowley, where were you? Was it Hell? Did they hurt you?”

There was a heartbeat of silence, then they both laughed softly. Crowley stepped closer and drew Asa into his arms. Asa sighed and relaxed against him, putting both arms around Crowley’s waist, and feeling the heavy velvet of a frock coat. Strange that his clothes, and his lean, hard body, should feel so solid when he was utterly invisible.

“Bad day. My parents treated me to their regular lecture on all the ways I’ve failed them as a son, and so I told them I no longer wished contact with them. The worst part was missing you, though.” Asa lifted his hand, finding Crowley’s neck and tracing the line of it to find his jaw, so he could lean up and press a kiss to his Guardian’s cheek. “Darling, please tell me what happened. My woes can wait.”

He felt Crowley’s chest rise and fall as he sighed. “I can tell you’re going to insist, so I will offer you a deal. Light a fire, make yourself a goddamn cup of tea, and please eat something, because I suspect you have not eaten all day. Then, we’ll talk.”

Knowing he was out-maneuvered, Asa did as Crowley suggested. Placing Crowley’s tea in its usual place, he sat on the sofa, and found his Guardian sitting exactly where he expected him. Crowley insisted on waiting until Asa had drunk half a cup of tea and nibbled on a couple of oatcakes before he would talk.

“Tell me what happened,” Asa said firmly, taking Crowley’s hand in his.

“I went back to Hell. Had to see if there was any information Downstairs about fallen Guardians. Got into a bit of a scrape for my troubles.”

Asa bit his lip. The thought of Crowley in Hell made him sick to his stomach. 

“They hurt you? Even though you’re ghost-like?”

“I’m only ghost-like on earth, angel. Plenty solid enough to be hurt in Hell. Even an immortal body can get an injury.”

“Tell me, Crowley.”

“A, um, colleague of mine … wounded … my leg when I first arrived in Hell. Had a bit of a scuffle with him today, reopened the original cut. It will be fine, it just needs a bit of time.”

“Could I … could I bathe it? Would that ease it at all?”

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt to try, if it’s no trouble.”

“As if anything would be a trouble, were it for you, dear.”

Asa got up to heat some water and fetch a few supplies. Returning to the sofa, he held out his hand.

“Guide me to the injury.”

Crowley hesitated, then Asa felt Crowley take his hand and guide it down to his calf. Asa moved in infinitesimal steps as he explored the area. Crowley’s skin was warm and smooth, and his careful fingers felt where the softness gave way to the edge of a wound, tacky and rough.

“There. Now, tell me what happened in Hell?”

As Crowley started to speak, Asa slid to his knees beside the seat, picked up the soft linen handkerchief he’d brought with him, and started to carefully bathe the wound.

“I was looking for information. Figured if there was anything there about fallen Guardians, I needed to know.”

“And was there?” Asa dipped the cloth in the water again, squeezed, and kept tending to Crowley’s leg. 

There was a long silence. Asa placed the cloth back in the bowl, and looked up towards Crowley.

“Crowley, was there?”

“Found a couple of things in Hell’s archives. Beelzebub ...”

“As in - the biblical demon -?”

“Yes.” Crowley said. “That one.”

Asa paused for a long moment.

“Biblical demons are … they’re real? Oh, I suppose they must be, if angels are real. Still one doesn’t expect to casually speak of Beelzebub …”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes … yes dear, a slight shock is all. Please, go on.” 

“Beelzebub had never heard of a fallen Guardian, and the archives don’t have anything useful either. I only found one reference … what are you doing?”

“My apologies. Agnes taught me to make a concoction of honey, garlic, and turmeric for wound healing. But of course you’re not human ….”

“No, no it’s very thoughtful. And who knows, it might help. Or at the very least, I’ll taste good if you decide to cook me for supper.”

Asa tried to laugh as he gently smoothed the mixture onto the wound, but the tension in Crowley’s voice hadn’t escaped him.

“What was the reference, Crowley?”

Crowley reached for him then, guiding him back up to sit on the sofa, keeping his hand held tight.

“Apparently the Seeing ritual relies on my divine energy.” Crowley’s voice cracked. “And I … I don’t have that any more.”

For a moment Asa felt as if the earth had been ripped from under him and left him adrift in the dark. But Crowley needed reassurance and so he steeled himself and gave his Guardian’s hand a quick squeeze. “There must be a way around it. We can’t give up now.”

“I can’t just walk back into Heaven and ask for help. Or Grace.”

“I know. But I refuse to believe there is nothing that can be done.”

Crowley sighed and rubbed his thumb over the back of Asa’s hand. “I know you are trying to be strong for me, but we have to face that …. that we might not ever get to do this. You might never see me. We might not ever be fully bonded.”

Asa bowed his head for a moment. He’d only known Crowley a short time, but the thought of being less than completely bonded with him, hurt deep in his bones.

“Well then.” He moved closer until he could get his arms around Crowley. “We will enjoy every second we have together, and I will never stop seeking an answer. And I will love you with all I am, exactly as you are.”

He felt Crowley relax a little in his arms.

“I missed you,” the Guardian told him, pressing his hands to Asa’s back. “I’m so very sorry about your parents.”

Asa sighed. “I’m used to it, quite honestly.”

“How could anyone fail to love you?” Crowley asked quietly, and suddenly Asa felt those long fingers on his face. When they brushed his lower lip, he tensed and immediately felt Crowley draw back.

“I’m sorry.”

Asa closed his eyes. “Don’t be. Oh, don’t be. I am just … a little afraid of … I’ve never felt anything like this, Crowley, I …. I’m only human, and you are so much more.”

“Don’t say that. I’ve waited millennia for you.” Crowley’s voice was close to his ear, then he felt warm lips brushing against his temple. “Is this alright, angel?” He asked as his fingers trailed up and down Asa’s spine. Asa nodded, somehow finding Crowley’s shoulder and burying his face against it.

“I … Crowley I know what I said about waiting to kiss you, but when you were gone, I was heartsick with missing you, and now I know I might not ever get to see you, and I …. I …”

“I know …. may I?” the fingers brushing Asa’s lower lip were a clear question.

“Crowley, please …”

“Close your eyes.” 

Asa did so, and then Crowley’s fingers on Asa’s lips were replaced with his mouth, warm and insistent as he kissed Asa slowly. Asa parted his lips instinctively, hands finding their way into Crowley’s long hair. When he felt Crowley’s tongue slip into his mouth and explore there, he groaned softly.

“Asa …” Crowley slid his hands down to the Aurent’s lower back. “Tell me what you want of me, how I can please you …”

Asa laughed shakily. “My love, you make me want things I had hardly dared dream of. But if the way you experience the world is so faint, how could being intimate with me possibly be enjoyable for you? I cannot take such pleasure from you as I know you will give me, if I cannot give you the same in return.”

Crowely kissed him again. “Knowing that you trust me to kiss you and touch you means more to me than anything else in my long life. I truly do not care that I won’t feel the sensations very keenly.” He drew Asa’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of it softly. “I’m yours, Asa. In any way you want me.”

“I truly planned to wait,” Asa said quietly. “But if we might not be able to perform the Seeing … I … I just want to be close to you.”

He paused and took a deep breath, trying to gather the courage for what he wanted to say next.

“I am not only concerned because of how you experience the world, but because I … I have no intimate experience. I don’t know what to do.”

He was so flushed that his face felt uncomfortably hot, but Crowley responded by wrapping both arms around Asa’s waist and kissing him deep and long. He tasted of smoke and spices and something deliciously bittersweet, and Asa couldn’t get enough. 

“Not like I know either,” Crowley murmured against his mouth. “But we’ll figure it out together.” 

With that he pressed a long kiss to the side of Asa’s neck, taking his time and letting his teeth graze the skin. Asa moaned softly, hips shifting a little of their own accord as he was overtaken by the urge to divest Crowley of his clothes. Finding the velvet collar of his coat, he pulled the garment open and tugged it from Crowley. There was a brief moment where not being able to see his Guardian made pulling the coat sleeves free of his arms a challenge, then they were laughing together between kisses.

Asa could hardly breathe, overwhelmed with the feel of Crowley’s hands roaming down his back, then sliding over his thighs. But when Crowley slid his hand under the hem of Asa’s nightshirt to touch his thigh, he froze, grabbing Crowley’s wrist, face burning with shame.

“What is it, love? I promise, we can stop this instant.”

“It’s not … it’s not that.” Asa felt tears welling in his eyes, and brushed them away hurriedly. “I have a … a mark, a scar that I haven’t told you about.”

“Why would I care that you did not tell me about a scar?”

“It’s ….” Asa took a deep breath. Crowley had been so brave to tell Asa that he was fallen. He could be brave enough to give him this honesty in return. “It’s a brand. I was discharged from the military in disgrace, twenty years ago.”

“Why?”

“I … I gave my sabre to an enemy soldier.”

“You gave it away?” Crowley said incredulously. 

“He was so young, Crowley, just a boy, and he was so frightened. I had picked up a smattering of Russian by then, and I could make out from his pleas that he just wanted to survive, to get back to his wife and their newborn baby. How could I leave him defenseless?”

Crowley didn’t answer, but Asa felt his Guardian rubbing the outside of his thigh soothingly. It was a distracting sensation, and he hoped it meant Crowley wasn’t ashamed of him.

“My parents have never recovered from the shame.”

“Can I see it?”

“Beg pardon?”

“The brand. Can I see it?”

Asa twisted his nightshirt in his fingertips, but then nodded once, quickly, and pulled the side of the shirt up to show the faint BC picked out against the flesh of his hip, the letters white and gnarled compared to the rest of his skin.

“It stands for bad character,” he admitted.

“This.” Crowley’s fingers traced the shape of the brand carefully and Asa couldn’t repress a shiver. “Is not a mark of shame. It’s a reminder that you were brave enough to do what you thought was right, when you knew to do so would not end well for you.”

The couch cushion beside him shifted, and a brush of cool air indicated that Crowley had moved. A warm arm over his knees, a ghost of hot breath, and suddenly Crowley’s lips were pressed to the brand. The contact sent a bolt of sensation up his spine, and when Crowley’s tongue traced the shape of the brand, he gasped sharply.

“Upstairs … Crowley, let’s …”

Asa stood, his legs trembling as he made his way upstairs and into his bedroom, pausing uncertainly before the bed. A second later, he felt Crowley’s arms around him, the Guardian’s body pressed into his back.

“May I see you, Asa?”

He nodded, and immediately felt Crowley pulling his nightshirt up and free of his body. Then his Guardian’s hands were on his waist, pressing delicious heat into the skin there, and his lips were exploring Asa’s shoulders.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured against Asa’s skin, hands roaming over the Aurent’s hips and thighs, then travelling up to explore the rest of his body. His palms cupped the gentle curves of Asa’s stomach and waist, and he lingered over all the soft, plump parts Asa had been so concerned about, with a noise of appreciation that made Asa’s heart flutter. When Crowley’s hand paused on its trajectory down his stomach, and he whispered a soft “can I?” in his ear, Asa was quite certain he was about to faint. He nodded and Crowley wrapped his fingers carefully around his length, stroking so softly at first, as if afraid to hurt him. Asa couldn’t do anything but whimper and reach back to grasp at his Guardian.

“I want to make you feel so good,” Crowely breathed, then Asa felt his Guardian’s fingers grow slicker as his hand moved faster, other hand tight on Asa’s hip. Asa gave a slight huff of surprise, and Crowley’s voice turned teasing. “Wasn’t sure if it would work. Useful trick, that.”

Asa laughed with delight, leaning his head back against Crowley’s shoulder. “So you can lubricate your hand, but not lift a teacup? Who designed it that way?”

Crowley nipped his ear. “Mhm, but which would you rather I be able to do?” Before Asa could answer, Crowley carefully turned him round and guided him to lie back on his bed, lying over him so that Asa could feel Crowley’s chest rising and falling with each breath as his hand slid between Asa’s legs to continue caressing him. He reached for Crowley, his hands easily finding his Guardian and divesting him of the rest of his clothes, as Crowley’s fingers continued to stroke and slide. 

“It’s not … it’s not too strange, is it, not seeing me?”

Crowley asked earnestly, and Asa reached to hold him tighter.

“The only thing I find strange is that I am looking at walls and bookshelves and the bedstead when my eyes ought only to focus on you. That part is distracting.”

“We might be able to solve that, at least. Will you try something for me?”

“Anything for you, my love.” Asa told him, and meant it.

“Could you … blindfold yourself?” Crowley’s tongue teased the pulse in Asa’s neck as he spoke against his skin. “You might find it less distracting.”

Asa bit his lip hard in anticipation at the thought. Quickly retrieving a silk cravat, he tied it around his eyes and lay back down, shuddering with pleasure when he felt Crowley’s hands on him. Being unable to see heightened his other senses until he thought he was going to come undone from the feel of Crowley’s hands and the heat of his body.

“Better?” Crowley murmured, nibbling his earlobe as he reached down to close his fingers around Asa’s shaft once more and move his hand up and down until Asa was almost painfully hard. Asa barely managed to gasp out an affirmative, as he surrendered to a night-dark world filled only with Crowley.

When his hips began to writhe and tremble of their own accord, Asa grasped Crowley’s wrist, panting. “Slow down. I don’t want to … not yet. I want to savor this.”

“I want to savor  _ you _ ,” Crowley responded, and the next moment Asa felt invisible hands exploring every inch of his body, lingering over every dip and curve of him, nails scratching here and there. Asa was floating and falling, fingers bunched in the bedclothes as he shivered at Crowley’s touch. 

“I’ll never be able to get enough of you.” Crowley’s voice was somewhere near his hip, a guess which was further born out by the feel of long, slow kisses against the crease, and Crowley’s tongue lapping there. 

Asa needed to touch him, needed to explore his warm skin with his mouth and hands. Pulling Crowley back up to lie atop him, Asa tangled his Guardian’s long hair around his fingers, pushing it aside so he could press kisses into his neck, finding it surprisingly easy to traverse his lean body by taste and touch alone. He learned that Crowley’s arms were wiry with bony wrists that felt delicate under his touch. He discovered that his waist was slender, and his ribcage prominent, a ladder for Asa to ascend with licks and deft touches that made Crowley sigh his name. He learned the coppery, gunpowder scent and taste of him as he rubbed his tongue against Crowley’s nipples and felt them harden, licked into the hollow of his throat, bit at the inside of his wrist.

When he pressed the flat of his hand to Crowley’s stomach and whispered “show me,” Crowley understood at once. Pressing kiss after kiss against Asa’s neck, he wrapped his long fingers around Asa’s hand and slowly guided it lower. Asa gasped sharply as his fingers closed around the hot, silky hardness of Crowley’s shaft. He heard Crowley’s answering intake of breath, then his Guardian was kissing him over and over as Asa stroked and explored. 

“Tell me what you need, Crowley, my love.”

Crowley stilled, and Asa sensed his Guardian wasn’t sure what he was allowed to ask. He slid his hand down Crowley’s body and encouraged him to move even closer, wrapping his legs around the Guardian’s slender hips, and whispering in his ear that anything he wanted was his for the taking.

“I want to be inside you,” Crowley murmured softly against Asa’s throat as he pressed kisses there.

“I want that too,” Asa told him, breath quickening at the thought. When Crowley’s next kiss was soft and gentle as a feather brushed against his skin, Asa reached to trail a finger down his Guardian’s cheek. “What is it, my love? 

“It’s only a slight …. concern, I.” Crowley wrapped his arm around Asa’s waist. “Because the way I feel things is duller I … well, I likely won’t get enough sensations to climax. And I’m worried that you might think something’s wrong, or I didn’t enjoy being with you when I will, angel, I can hardly believe you want me, I ….”

Asa wished desperately he could see Crowley at that moment, so he could look into his eyes and show him all the love and trust he had for him. 

“Darling, I trust you. There are so many strange things about our situation, but isn’t the only important thing that we’re together, that we get to be this intimate?”

“You should be the Guardian,” Crowley teased, but Asa could hear the tension melt from his voice.

“Quite. Now do that magic trick of yours again.”

Crowley laughed properly then, the sound so warm that Asa felt for a moment that he was basking in firelight. Then Crowley was gently pushing his thigh up and back with one hand, while the other, slick and dripping, found his entrance, one finger easing carefully inside. Asa keened at the sensation, head falling back against the pillows. Crowley took it slowly, gradually building up to easy, rhythmic movements, his mouth trailing a map of kisses and bites over Asa’s body as he did so. Only when Asa was pleading softly, writhing and clenching to get more friction, did Crowley add a second finger, and eventually a third. When his fingers brushed a place inside that made Asa moan loudly and grasp at him, Crowley eased his fingers back. 

“Are you ready, sweetheart?”

“Yes … yes, so ready …”

Asa felt his Guardian kiss his forehead, like a benediction. Then he felt the unmistakable sensation of feathers against his naked skin as Crowley wrapped both wings around him and looped one arm under his waist, long fingers pressing against his lower back and holding him in place. Crowley buried his face in the crook of Asa’s neck and he felt an insistent pressure, hot and wanting, as Crowley slid just inside him, the stretch making him moan wantonly and wrap his arms tighter around his Guardian.

Crowley cocooned Asa with his wings as he worked slowly, just a little at a time, letting Asa adjust each time before pressing a bit deeper. Asa couldn’t help rocking into it, wanting more, amazed at the way his body seemed to know what to do, how to move and bear down to make it easier for Crowley to fit inside him. 

When Crowley was seated as deeply as possible inside Asa’s body, Asa had the strangest sensation that every atom of his being was being remade to accommodate Crowley’s very essence, as if he hadn’t realised until that moment that he was an ocean with no moon to draw its tides. For a moment the only movement was their hands as each of them reached for the other, holding on tight. Then Crowley’s mouth was hot on his and Asa was crying out into the kiss, hips bucking sharply, speaking the truth against his Guardian’s lips, just as Crowley spoke to him.

“I was waiting for you, Crowley.”

“I was made for you, Asa.”

When Crowley drew slowly back so he could slide all the way in again, Asa thought he might just swoon from the sensations sparking in his body like fireworks. Crowley whispered in his ear, asking him if he was ok, if he felt good, while his fingers stroked Asa’s face in an infinitely gentle way. Every long-held fear Asa had, that he wouldn’t be desirable enough for another man, that he wouldn’t know what to do or how to make another person feel good, melted like snow in dawn sunlight as Crowley held him close and safe, rocking deep and slow, and telling him over and over how good he was, how wonderful he felt. 

Asa wrapped both legs tighter around Crowley, hands clutching at his shoulders, sliding around the warm, narrow curve of his waist, and tangling in his long hair as it brushed over Asa’s collarbone, just as he’d imagined. 

“I didn’t know it could be this easy to be with someone,” he admitted, and was rewarded with the feel of Crowley pressing long, loving kisses to his mouth and the corner of his jaw.

“Me neither. Didn’t even know I was allowed to want this.”

“You’re allowed anything with me.” Asa smiled, then groaned as Crowley moved harder, dragging over the most sensitive spot inside him. “Oh god,” his voice was shaking. He felt unmoored, lost in sensation.

“What’s She got to do with it?” Crowley breathed against his ear with a chuckle. Asa laughed, tugging Crowley’s hair teasingly. “Oh, I cannot be too upset with Her,” he gasped out. “She made you after all.”

Crowley laughed at that, kissing him insistently as they rocked and ground more frantically together. Asa clung to Crowley as he grabbed Asa’s legs and lifted them over his shoulders to delve even deeper. For so long, Asa had thought it would be frightening to lose control in such an intimate way in front of someone else, but it was the most confident and most safe he’d ever felt.

As Crowley pinned him down, hips driving faster, Asa surrendered every answering movement, every cry, to his Guardian, letting him see everything he wrought in Asa. When the hot pressure of Crowley moving inside him and the feel of his Guardian’s mouth and hands on his body became too much, Asa turned and buried his face in Crowley’s feathers, fingers tightening against the arch of his wing as he lost control, hips jerking, shouting Crowley’s name.

For a long time after, he could do nothing but stroke Crowley’s wing, other hand holding his Guardian’s hand tight, breath still ragged. Crowley held him tenderly, peppering his face with kisses. When he had a little more control of his senses, he pulled Crowley closer, stroking his Guardian’s side and pressing a long kiss to his shoulder, tongue laving gently.

“Crowley, I …”

He paused. He knew what he wanted to say. It seemed a little silly to be so shy when Crowley had been buried deep inside him just moments before, but it was hard not to flush at the thought of what he was about to ask.

“What is it, angel? Are you … was that …?” Crowley nuzzled into his neck, and the feel of his breath against Asa’s skin nearly made him forget where he was going with his query. But Asa had never been one to give up once he had determined to find something out.

“Absolutely breathtaking,” Asa told him honestly. “It’s only … you mentioned not being able to get enough sensations to …”

“Mhm.” Crowley kissed his way along Asa’s collar, holding him as if he was the most precious thing in the world. “Don’t care about that. I’m just so damn happy, Asa.”   
  
“And I trust you.” Asa sucked the juncture of Crowley’s shoulder and neck, hands seemingly unable to keep from wandering across every inch of his Guardian’s skin. “But I was thinking, my dear. Your own touch doesn’t feel ghostly, does it? I mean … your own hand on your own body.”

“Well, no ....”

Asa could feel a blush heating his face so much he was quite sure he must be pink to the tips of his ears. Undaunted despite his shyness, he took Crowley’s hand in his and pushed it downwards, carefully guiding Crowley to wrap his long fingers around his own still-hard cock.

“Oh …” Crowley drew his breath in sharply. “Are you sure?”

“Very much,” Asa whispered, feeling shivers meander down his spine at the unique sensation of guiding Crowley to pleasure himself. “I have, er, never done this with someone else so you might have to give me a little instruction.” 

Crowley gave a low, shuddering sigh, then carefully guided Asa to let go briefly so Crowley could turn him onto his side. Asa reached out, his hand finding Crowley’s hip and confirming that his Guardian was lying facing him.

“Easier this way than with me lying on top of you,” Crowley muttered, his voice thick with lust. Asa nodded agreement, his breathing uneven as he took hold of Crowley’s hand once more, positioning it around Crowley’s swollen shaft. Then he resumed sliding their joined hands up and down Crowley’s length. 

They were lying close enough that he could feel the hitch and rock of Crowley’s hips, the movements growing faster with every stroke and pull. His Guardian’s free hand gripped Asa’s shoulder hard, and suddenly Crowley was kissing him over and over as if he would never stop. In between kisses and moans he whispered what he wanted Asa to do, telling him how to guide Crowley’s hand.

The feel of Crowley’s fingers under his own and the flashes of slick heat where Asa’s fingers brushed Crowley’s cock as he worked their hands together, were intoxicating. Listening to Crowley’s moans and sighs and soft commands, Asa was suddenly aware of how vulnerable Crowley was, how trusting, to let Asa guide him thus. He wished he had wings of his own, to pull Crowley to him and protect him. 

“Asa ….” Crowley buried his face against his Aurent’s shoulder. “I can’t hold back, I …”

“Then don’t,” Asa said softly, movements quick and sure. “Let go for me …”

As Crowley shouted his name, there was a spill of hot seed across his fingers, and Asa felt so overwhelmed by his love for his Guardian that he felt tears welling in his eyes. When Crowley’s movements stilled, Asa drew to a stop and gathered Crowley into his arms.

When their breathing had returned to normal, Crowley nudged Asa to turn away so Crowley could curve into his back and hold him tight. For a long time they lay quietly, murmuring words of love and reassurance to each other, until Asa felt so relaxed that he began to drift into sleep, cradled in Crowley’s arms and wings. 

Asa awoke to the sound of Crowley talking softly to him, telling Asa how glad he was that he’d been made to be his Guardian, how he was more beautiful than the stars Crowley had so loved before his fall. For a moment he felt warm and relaxed, but then Crowley realised he was awake and pulled him closer, the movement making his wings brush Asa’s thighs, and a jolt of lust turned his lower belly to fire and want. The brush of Crowley’s fingers down the crease of his hip and the unmistakable hardness pressing against the base of Asa’s spine told him that he wasn’t alone in his feelings. Emboldened, Asa reached back to stroke Crowley’s hip, softly murmuring, “I need you."

“I’m yours,” Crowley told him, pressing a kiss to the back of Asa’s neck as he slid his long fingers teasingly against his entrance. Asa lost all coherent thought for a long time after that, rocking back against Crowley as his Guardian pressed his fingers into him, making him ready. When he moaned impatiently, Crowley laughed softly and bit his ear. 

“Insatiable,” he murmured as he positioned the head of his cock at Asa’s entrance and slowly pushed into him, holding him tight and molding their bodies together. 

Their joining was tender and careful and filled with quiet moans and whispered pleas for more. Asa explored the vanes and barbs of Crowley’s feathers, then raised his Guardian’s hand to his mouth so that he could press his lips to the smooth skin inside Crowley’s wrist. As they grew more desperate, Crowley let go of Asa’s hand so he could dig his nails into Asa’s hip, holding him in place so that he could thrust harder until all Asa could do was cry his name, writhing in his Guardian’s arms as he came once again, Crowley’s name reverberating through the room, through his body, through his heart.

Moments afterward, while they were still joined and panting, Asa whispered, “What if we can never perform the Seeing?” He flushed and ducked his head, embarrassed at having asked such a question during a deeply intimate moment.

“I’m sorry …” he started, but then Crowley gathered him in both arms, movements stilled but remaining buried deep inside Asa, keeping them locked together.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” He kissed Asa’s cheek softly. “I am worried too. But no matter what, Asa, I will not let us be separated. If I have to tear this universe apart and rebuild it to be with you, I will.”

Asa smiled a little at that, turning enough that Crowley could meet him in a passionate kiss. They stayed like that for hours, bodies joined, slowly surging together again and again until the edges between them became fuzzy and all Asa knew was the heat and love of Crowley surrounding him, holding him, filling him, and sheltering him.

*****

When Asa awoke to a cold dawn, the first thing he did was check that Crowley was still with him. The feel of his Guardian’s warm skin against his back was a welcome relief. Turning carefully so as not to wake him, he pressed a light kiss to Crowley’s cheek, then rose from the bed, wrapped himself in his dressing robe, and made his way downstairs. Lighting a candle, he settled in his armchair, picked up the Book of Aurency, and began examining it once more, as if he could persuade it to reveal answers previously withheld.

“Fallen Guardians,” he muttered. “Did you predict this, Agnes?”

He was about to start poring over Agnes’ notes yet again, when his thumb brushed against something at the back of the book, a subtle ridge on the inside cover. He’d noticed it before, of course, but dismissed it as a variation in the binding. But something was calling to him, guiding him to find a pen knife, and then, swallowing down his horror at defacing the book, he cut along the ridge. 

His fingers slid under the false inner page, tearing it a little, and found the edge of something. Asa pulled it out and found himself holding an envelope with his name written on it. Underneath was a message in Agnes’s copperplate hand:   
  
“Read this when you find him.”

Feeling butterflies coming to life in his stomach, Asa opened the envelope and began to read the letter Agnes had written him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Content notes**
> 
> Asa was branded when he was sent from the military in disgrace. The kind of brand - a BC for "bad character" - was an actual military punishment used in this era, although it was more common in Canada. There's no mention of the act itself - just the scar it left.
> 
> Crowley has a leg injury in this chapter but it's not described in any detail.
> 
> I imagine Asa was in The Charge Of The Light Brigade where, yes, they did use sabres.
> 
> *****  
> Updates every Wednesday and Friday - stay tuned, and hit that subscribe button to be the first to know when the new chapter drops!
> 
> Thank you all for your wonderful comments so far! You have made my day and I'm excited to get to share this new chapter with you. Let me know what you think :)


	6. The Guardian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asa reads Agnes' letter, help comes from an unexpected quarter, and Crowley learns that not everything in Heaven is terrible.

“Crowley! My love, wake up.”

Crowley felt a feathering of hesitant touches against his cheek, as if Asa was making sure he wasn’t going to accidentally hurt him. Smiling, he kept his eyes closed for just a moment longer, unwilling to leave the warm cocoon of Asa’s bed, and Asa’s embrace. Crowley took hold of the hand that was caressing his cheek and pulled it to his lips, pressing open-mouthed kisses over Asa’s palm and wrist. Asa gave a soft chuckle, climbing back under the covers and pressing close to Crowley, finding his way into his Guardian’s embrace with incredible certainty.

“Very well, I’ll stay in bed a bit longer, but darling I must read to you while we snuggle. I found this letter from Agnes in the back of the Book of Aurency.”

“What! And here I am trying to distract you with kisses.”

“Yes, you’re a wicked Guardian. Such a tempter.” Asa leaned over and found Crowley’s lips, kissing him soft and slow. Crowley groaned and wrapped his arm around Asa’s waist, drawing him closer and basking in the feel of his solid, strong body in Crowley’s arms. Asa gave the softest gasp against Crowley’s mouth, then pulled back.

“I didn’t know it would feel like this,” he told Crowley shyly. “This … this craving, this need to always be touching you, to be as close as possible.”

“I know.” Crowley nuzzled his shoulder. “It amazes me, too. Please read me the letter?”

He sat up then so Asa could rest back against him as he read.

_“My dearest Asa,”_ it began. “ _I knew you would find this when you needed it, my clever boy. It came to me in a dream one night that I must share this with you. It is a ritual that not many Aurents know - it will allow you to summon other Guardians than your own. Do not share this ritual with anyone else; it is a great responsibility, Asa, and I would not entrust it to anyone with a heart less ...”_ and here Asa faltered a little “ _… less true and kind than yours.”_

His voice dropped so low Crowley could barely hear it. Crowley nudged him gently. “See? She saw how lovely your heart is. And she knew you well, so she must be correct.”

Asa laughed self-consciously, but snuggled closer into Crowley and kept reading. 

_ “For it to work, you must know my Guardian’s name: Sachiel. I fear you may be afraid to try it. I know the things your mother said to you.”  _

An involuntary growl rose in Crowley’s throat, and Asa looked curiously in his direction. “I bloody hate that woman.” Crowley groused by way of explanation. “Treating you so badly that even your aunt saw it. When I’m more corporeal she will regret it, I swear …” He shook his head. “Anyway, carry on, angel …”

Asa snuggled closer still and did as asked. _“But I have complete faith in you. I know you can do this.”_

Crowley was silent for so long that Asa reached to stroke his shoulder, concern painting clouds across his lovely features.

“Crowley? Isn’t this good news?”

“I’m not certain.”

Asa’s enthusiasm dimmed, and Crowley's heart sunk in response. He rushed to explain.

“The last angel I saw was wielding a flaming sword and shoving me over the edge of a cliff towards Hell. And I know what some angels are like. I don’t trust them as far as I could spit, and I don’t know how I feel about you summoning one.”

He was afraid for both of them. What if this Sachiel turned out to be like some of the sanctimonious rule followers Crowley had met in Heaven?

“Maybe Sachiel is not our enemy. From what I’ve read in Agnes’ notes, he is very kind and patient. Perhaps he can help us? He must know about the rituals - he’s done them.”

“And I haven’t. Thanks for the reminder.”

Crowley bit his lip, hating himself for saying it. Asa looked a little wounded and Crowley cursed under his breath.

“I just don’t want to see you hurt,” he muttered. “Don’t know what this Sachiel might take back to Upstairs. Hell doesn’t care if I’m still your Guardian, but Heaven might.”

Asa was silent for a moment, staring down at his hands as they twisted in the bedsheets.

“Oh, Crowley ….”

Crowley wrapped both his arms tight around Asa and buried his face against the Aurent’s shoulder. “Just please be careful.”

“Crowley, if it would hurt you, I … I can’t …”

Crowley took a deep breath. He knew it was important to Asa, and he knew Asa wouldn’t go forward without Crowley’s assent. He just didn’t like it.

“You’re right, angel. It’s our only chance to talk to someone who might have information. You trusted Agnes, and I trust you. I only have one request.”

“Anything, my love.” Asa turned and felt carefully for Crowley’s jaw so he could press a long kiss to his mouth.

“Let me be there.”

Asa nodded, holding on to Crowley.

“It might not work anyway. We both know I’m a terrible Aurent.”

“No,” Crowley felt anger heating his chest. “Don’t you say that. Anyone would struggle under the kind of pressure your parents put you under. But you found me despite all of that. You can do this.”

Asa nodded again, then rested his head against Crowley’s shoulder.

“I’m a little frightened,” he admitted. “What if you’re right? What if he hurts us somehow? Maybe this is a bad idea.”

“Did Agnes have visions often?”

“Oh, yes. She was known for it - she was uncannily accurate.”

“Perhaps we ought to trust her, then. It does seem our best opportunity to get help with the Seeing.”

Asa reached for Crowley’s hand.

“If Sachiel tries to harm you, he’ll find out that a mere human can do quite some damage if angry enough. I would never let anyone lay a finger on you, if I could help it. I am quite strong - I daresay I could throw a decent punch if I had to.”

Crowley laughed softly and gathered Asa close. “Well, perhaps let’s restrain from fisticuffs with occult beings. But I am glad we will be there to guard each other’s back during this ritual. What does Agnes say you have to do?”

*****

Crowley paced repeatedly around the perimeter of the summoning circle. So far he’d pulled two buttons from his shirt and one from his frock coat as he fiddled restlessly with his clothes, stuffing them in his pockets and hoping he could either miracle them back on or figure out how to use a needle and thread.

“Crowley! You’re making me nervous.”

“You can’t see me.”

“I can sense you though, going around and around the circle like a snake circling me.”

“Sorry. Bit tense.”

“Quite. Now do stop pacing and let me focus.”

Asa lit the candle, into which he’d etched the symbols Agnes had drawn for him in her letter, interlocking lines and curves that looked like arcane writing. Ringing the bell once, he picked up the white swan’s feather (procured during a very amusing trip to Duddingston loch where Crowley had watched Asa try to sneak up on the swans) and closed his eyes. 

Agnes’ instructions told him to make the feather into a proxy for her Guardian, by pouring all his imagination into fancying it an angel’s feather.  _ Make it a reality _ , she had written.  _ Believe with all your heart that he is with you _ . Asa was attempting to do just that. The symbols were from Sachiel’s halo. Crowley thought of his own shattered halo, and shuddered. The thought of anyone besides Asa knowing one of the symbols, using them to call him … it was terrifying.

There was a sudden shimmer in the air that made Crowley and Asa both freeze. 

“Crowley, did you see that?”

“Yes. Keep going, angel, it’s working.”

Asa closed his eyes, concentrating. Crowley, lost for any way to actually help him, stood as close as he could without disturbing Asa, poised for whatever happened next. As his nails got a little more talon-like and a pattern of scales appeared on his wrists and the base of his throat, he was glad Asa couldn’t see him.

There was a sound like the sea rushing out, and the bookshop floor tilted as if they had abruptly set sail. Then there was a flash of light so blinding that Asa curled forward, shielding his eyes. Crowley dashed to his side, holding him tight. The light subsided, and Crowley looked up into the face of a Guardian who glowed like the sun, and who looked more than powerful enough to smite a city with barely a thought. Hackles rising, he got to his feet, helping Asa to stand as well. Asa smiled shyly at the ethereal newcomer, looking more than a little shaken.

“Hello, you must be Sachiel. My apologies for troubling you. I …. I didn’t realise I would actually be able to  _ see _ you, given that I have not performed the Binding yet….”

Crowley bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood. He was trying not to be jealous, he really was. But knowing that Asa’s first sight of a Guardian was one of such beauty and grace made him feel more than a little defective.

“Some Aurents gain the skill of seeing Guardians other than their own before the third ritual. You must have a particular aptitude.”

Crowley leaned against the bookshelf and covered his face with his hands. If Asa had a particular aptitude, that meant it had taken so long to make contact because Crowley was fallen. What if it caused problems with the Seeing? What if he was simply too hard to connect with now?

“How is Agnes?” Asa asked eagerly. “Do you see her often?”

“Yes.” Sachiel smiled. He had a kind smile, but Crowley wasn’t ready to give an inch. As they talked, he prowled around the room, shooting warning looks at Sachiel. “I see her regularly, my dear. She is well. A little bored - Heaven is not always thrilling I am afraid to say.”

“Better than the alternative, I suppose,” Asa said quietly. Something in his tone caught Sachiel’s attention.

“What is happening?” It was a demand, but a gentle one. “Why have you called me here? And why is your Guardian shooting murderous glances at me from beside the desk?”

“Because I know what tattletales angels can be,” Crowley growled in Sachiel’s ear, having crossed the floor to stand beside him. He’d known another Guardian would be able to see him, of course, but he hadn’t been prepared for quite how angry he would feel at the sight of an angel, and one that could talk to Asa, no less. “And if you spill any information that leads him to harm I swear to anything you like, I will hunt you down and destroy you.”

Sachiel turned to him, and Crowley let a little of his hellfire light up his eyes as he glared at the other Guardian. Sachiel responded with a look that made the silver threads in his deep blue eyes glow like sunlight on the sea, sending a soft wave of celestial power. Crowley flinched, despite sensing that it was meant to be more comfort than threat. He hadn’t been so close to another angel since before his fall.

“I’m not going to hurt him. Guardians are supposed to protect Aurents, yes? That includes other Aurents than one’s own. And why would I wish to hurt him anyway?”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“Gentlemen! If you would please stop acting as if I were not here. I might be the only human in the room but I am not a simple-minded fool to be talked over as if I do not understand. I am going to make tea. I assume when I return you will both be sitting down ready for a civilized conversation.”

Crowley couldn’t help a fond smile as Asa turned and headed to the kitchen.

“He is quite sure tea fixes everything.”

“He is lovely,” Sachiel said warmly, and something in his eyes told Crowley that he’d noticed Asa’s beauty, which made Crowley snarl a little to himself. 

“May I?” He held out his hand and Crowley looked at him in utter confusion.

“Why?” Crowley asked suspiciously.

“Because I want to give you something to help you trust me. I promised Agnes I would help Asa in any way I can.”

“You do … you do realise what I am?”

“I’m not an idiot. I can see your halo.”

Crowley shuddered at that. Sachiel made a beckoning motion with his hand and Crowley hesitated. 

“Look, I can tell it’s going to take a lot for you to trust me,” Sachiel said with a shade of impatience to his tone. “And frankly, you and Asa have enough to deal with. So let’s at least shortcut this part. I’m going to give you one of the symbols from my halo. It will allow you to call me anytime you wish, and give you access to my energy. You will have more power over me than any information from this meeting might give me over you.”

“Why in Satan’s name would you do that? You can’t impress me with grand gestures.”

Sachiel threw his head back and laughed. Crowley grudgingly admitted that it was a beautiful sound. It was hard to believe anyone with that laugh was untrustworthy.

“I can’t accept,” he continued, and Sachiel raised an eyebrow. “If I’m going to give or receive such intimate symbols, it’s going to be with Asa. Knowing that you were willing to is enough.”

Sachiel smiled then, and reached out to squeeze Crowley’s arm. Crowley closed his eyes for a second. Heaven wasn’t particularly keen on touching at the best of times, but since his fall he hadn’t known even a whisper of a celestial touch. The blinding beauty of Sachiel’s Grace, the nearness of it, made the place of his own missing Grace ache.

Thankfully, Asa reappeared then with tea and shortbread. Crowley sat down beside his Aurent and gratefully wrapped his hands around the cup. He could feel himself trembling, and Asa must have sensed it too, because he cast Crowley a worried look.

“I’m fine,” Crowley reassured him, leaning down to nuzzle the tip of Asa’s nose. Asa smiled at that and nuzzled back, then turned to Sachiel. There was a heartbeat of silence during which Crowley felt Asa’s breath catch, just as his own did.

“You’re um, you’re holding that cup.”

“I am. It’s very good tea, dear, thank you.”

“I … I must be mistaken. I was under the impression that after the Binding you and Agnes would be closely bonded and other Aurents would see you, but I did not expect you to be completely present in the world.”

“That is the usual way of it, yes. But as you know, there are secret rituals, known only to a few Aurents and passed between them. One of them allows a Guardian to become fully corporeal, while retaining their immortality.”

Asa gaped at him. Crowley felt like he’d been punched in the midsection. He was ready to give anything, even his immortality, to touch Asa properly. The thought that there might be more, that there might be a way to be fully present in his world … Crowley bit his own tongue hard to stop the train of thought. 

“What’s this about secret rituals?” he demanded. “I was not told of such a thing in my training.”

“That’s because they’re usually passed from Aurent to Aurent, not between Guardians,” Sachiel explained. “The ability to summon another Guardian than your own, or to give a Guardian full corporeal form, gives one a lot of power. Aurents only pass the rituals on to those they trust completely.”

“Bloody lot of power no matter how you cut it,” Crowley grumbled.

“It’s certainly a flawed system,” Sachiel agreed. “But it is the best we have at present.”

Asa found Crowley’s hand and squeezed it tight. “Sachiel, Agnes wrote me a letter saying that she had foreseen I would need your help. You see, Crowley is … is no longer allowed into Heaven or to connect with God. I have a lot of very strong feelings about it, as a matter of fact, and I hope you are not a close follower of Hers, because you will not like my opinions on Her at all. But that is not the point. The point is that if he hasn’t his Grace, we might not be able to perform the Seeing and I … I… “

“We cannot perform it without my Grace.” Crowley muttered. “Not ‘might not’. Can not. Ever.’”

Asa rolled his eyes in Crowley’s direction.

“As I was saying. We  _ might  _ not be able to perform the Seeing, which concerns me greatly because I … we need to … I cannot leave him condemned to a life without real touch, without a true embrace …”

Asa paused, struggling to compose himself. Sachiel leaned forward and took his hand, and Crowley barely suppressed a hiss. He saw Asa’s eyes widen at the solid touch, his fingers reflexively squeezing Sachiel’s. Crowley wondered bitterly how it felt, to touch a still-holy Guardian who wasn’t a ghost.

“I confess, I am uncertain as to how Agnes thought I could help. I can tell you how to do the ritual, but that is not going to solve the problem. Perhaps if you both tell me what has happened thus far? Start at the beginning.”

Sachiel listened patiently while they both talked, Asa fiddling with the biscuits more than he was eating them, and Crowley alternating between sitting close to Asa, and pacing restlessly.

“Are you going to get into trouble for being here?” Asa asked suddenly, when there was a lull in the conversation.

Sachiel raised one shoulder in an elegant shrug, but Crowley saw the tension around his dusk-blue eyes. Eyes that were almost the same colour as Crowley’s had been before his fall.

“Hopefully not. I’m good at keeping my head down and escaping notice.”

“Were you … were you in the war?” Asa asked, and Crowley glanced at him in shock. But Asa simply picked up his tea and took a large swallow. 

“You want to know my opinion of Crowley before you decide whether to trust me.”

Asa nodded his assent, and Crowley smiled a little. Being cared for and defended was an entirely new feeling.

“Well, we have only just met,” Sachiel pointed out. “Based on that, my opinion is that he loves you immensely and would do anything for you. But I rather think you want to know if I agree with his fate.”

Asa inclined his head again, eyes never leaving Sachiel’s.

“I don’t believe any angel should be ejected from Heaven. I was supposed to be in the war, but I deserted for that reason.”

“Surprised  _ you _ didn’t get ejected for that,” Crowley said, unable to keep the shock, and a hint of bitterness, from his voice.

“I’d done a lot of work on the Book of Aurency by then, and I was high-ranking. An Archangel, in fact. I was told I could stay if I did penance and accepted demotion.”

“Penance?” Asa asked nervously.

“Let’s say I have some scars and leave it at that. But I survived.”

“We need something stronger for this discussion,” Asa said, getting up to go to the kitchen once more.

“He’s not wrong,” Sachiel remarked to Crowely, with a slight smile. Crowley tried to smile back.

“You ever heard of a Guardian falling in love with their Aurent?”

“A few times, yes. The bond is usually more akin to best friends, but it’s not unheard of.”

“It’s not frowned on? Not that I care if it’s frowned on, but …”

“Not especially. There’s nothing in the rules that says one should not.”

Crowley nodded. When Sachiel got up and moved to sit next to him, he looked up in surprise.

“Could I just …?” Sachiel asked and gently offered his hand. Crowley closed his eyes and took it.

“It’s like touching Heaven again for a second,” he admitted.

“I’m so sorry.” 

Crowley shrugged in response. “What happens to him when he dies?” He looked up at Sachiel, horrified by the vulnerability in his own voice. 

Sachiel regarded him for a long moment. His long golden hair tumbled past his shoulders, thick waves catching the dancing candle light in a way that made him look as most humans imagined an angel to look. It was a stark reminder of everything Crowley had lost.

“I don’t know. I assume he will be allowed into the Sanctuary. If that is so, I swear I will do my best to care for him, but I realise that is cold comfort.”

“Not acceptable.” Crowley pushed off the sofa and resumed pacing. “We cannot be parted. I’m going to find a way if it takes me the rest of his life.”

Sachiel nodded. “I see how he looks at you, Crowley. I think anyone would move Heaven and Hell if necessary for a love like that.”

“A love like what?” Asa asked as he returned with whisky for himself and Sachiel, and a hot toddy for Crowley to wrap his hands around.

“Like I have for you.” Crowley kissed his face. 

Asa smiled at that, then turned to Sachiel.

“Will you describe what the Seeing was like for you? I was thinking as I was preparing the drinks - Agnes must have wanted me to call you for a reason. She knew the ritual as well as you do, so she could have just written it into her letter. You must have something that she could not provide, and the obvious answer is insider knowledge. What the ritual felt like.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow, impressed at Asa’s deduction. Sachiel sat back, took a sip of his whisky, and began talking.

“The Seeing requires a transfer of some of one’s Grace to the Aurent. To do so, I gave Agnes a symbol from my halo, by tracing it on her palm and sort of … pressing it into her mind. That creates the link.”

Asa was leaning forward now, watching Sachiel intently.

“And what did she do? What was her part in it?”

“Her part was two-fold. The first was to open her energy to mine and trust me to join with her and see her exactly as she was, knowing I would accept her. The second was to sense the unconditional love that comes from my Grace, and to meet it with unconditional love of her own.”

“And then you appeared and said, be not afraid?” Asa said with a wry grin.

Sachiel laughed softly, and Asa smiled at Crowley, relaxing for a moment, then turned back to the other Guardian.

“And your part, sharing the symbol? What did that feel like?”

Sachiel paused, his eyes unfocused as he drifted into his own thoughts.

“It felt like the moment I had been created for. I remember feeling drawn to drop all the experiences of my long life, and focus only on that precise moment, on the feeling of peeling away part of my essence and freely offering it to another.”

Asa was quiet for a moment, and Crowley could see thoughts flitting across his expressive features.

“Sachiel … is there any reason that process wouldn’t work if Crowley and I used our unconditional love for one another? Is there a … a law … that it can only come from Grace?”

Sachiel drew a breath as if to speak, then simply took another sip of his whisky and sat back in the chair, crossing his left ankle over his right knee. He was the picture of ease and elegance, in his deep blue trousers and sky-blue frock coat, but Crowley could see he was deep in contemplation, his long fingers sliding idly over the glass.

“Well … apparently, it works because there is no purer love than God’s love, but some people,” here he gave Crowley a meaningful look, “have certainly experienced Her love to be less than pure. So perhaps it’s not the prerequisite we were taught. Perhaps all that matters is that the love itself is unconditional.”

“When you did it, were you more aware of your connection to God? Or of your link with Agnes?”

“My link with Agnes, most certainly. She mattered more to me at that moment than anything else.”

“Could it hurt Crowley, if I got it wrong?” Asa asked, his brow furrowing.

“No. I don’t think any human could hurt him, but especially not one who was made for him.”

Asa turned to Crowley then, his eyes alight with joy.

“Angel, we don’t know for sure …”

“But we have hope, Crowley! We have something we can try.”

He turned back to Sachiel, reaching out for his hand. Crowley tried not to flinch, not wanting to make Asa self conscious about his lovely openness and kindness, but it was hard knowing the other Guardian could feel his touch fully where Crowley could not.

“Thank you,” Asa told Sachiel warmly, squeezing his hand between both of Asa’s own.

“I am not certain I did much,” Sachiel said, standing up. 

“Your explanation of the ritual told me so much. Only if I might impose upon you one moment more - where will I find full instructions? The book is vague, because another Aurent is supposed to tell me, but I know none who would.”

“I have just told you,” Sachiel pointed out. “Crowley places a symbol from his halo in your hand and your mind - he reaches his energy into yours and you let him - and finally, he projects unconditional love to you, and you let yourself feel it, and return it.”

“That’s it?”

Sachiel laughed “I should think that’s enough!”

Asa laughed too. “Quite. It does sound rather intense. How do we do the third ritual?”

“I cannot tell you until you have done the second, but I will. I swear.”

Asa nodded. “Thank you again.”

“I’m glad I could help. Agnes speaks of you often.”

Asa’s eyes got a little damp at that, and Crowley squeezed him gently.

“Please tell her I love and miss her, if you would. And thank her for her letter, and for sending you to our aid.”

“Consider all of it done.” Sachiel glanced at Crowley. “Hold to each other. Call me an old romantic, but I do believe in the power of love, and you both have plenty of that. I think this can be done. You can call me again if you wish, but perhaps not too often? I daresay it’s not wise to draw too much attention to myself.”

“I can attest to that,” Crowley muttered. Sachiel gave him a look so sad that Crowley looked away.

“It wasn’t right, what happened to you. I’m sorry.”

Crowley shrugged in response, but when Sachiel squeezed his hand, he didn’t pull away. For a moment, he let Sachiel rub his thumb soothingly over the back of his hand. Then he was gone, leaving Asa and Crowley alone and awash in expectation.

“Shall we … shall we try it?” Asa asked quietly, his eyes bright.

Crowley wanted to say no, he wasn’t ready. He was shaken by being so close to another Guardian once more. He was angry with himself for feeling jealous of Sachiel’s ability to touch Asa. But his Aurent was looking at him with such hope, and he was so desperate to feel those pale curls beneath his fingers and kiss Asa as he deserved to be kissed … he nodded and gave Asa a small smile.

“I’d love to.”

Asa insisted on lighting candles and even incense to create the right atmosphere. Crowley was tense as a wildcat about to strike, pacing the room while Asa got ready. But then they were standing together in the circle and Asa was holding his hands and all was right with the world.

Until Crowley tried to press one of his halo symbols into Asa’s hand. No matter how many ways he tried, he simply couldn’t do it. His energy snapped back inside him at the last moment, because he couldn’t bear to push his broken, damaged self into Asa’s pure and beautiful core.

“I can’t do it,” he said in horror after the fifteenth attempt. “Asa, I can’t … I can’t get it to work.” He could feel his heart hammering in panic. “We can’t perform the Seeing and it’s my fault, I’m too broken …. we should call Sachiel back. Maybe God will consider giving you another Guardian after all …”

“Crowley!” Asa’s voice was kind, but brooked no argument. “Look, we just … oh hang on a moment.” He went around the circle, extinguishing the candles and returning the bell, feather and book of Aurency to their rightful places. Crowley felt like he was watching from a distance, surprised that Asa could be so calm as he packed away their chance to truly bond.

“Now then.” Asa found Crowley’s hand. “It is my belief that you are having difficulty truly letting go, and nothing more dire than that.”

“But I … I did it wrong, I broke everything.”

Asa looked in his direction with a baffled expression.

“Crowley? You don’t only get one chance. Or fifteen. It didn’t work tonight. We can try again when we’ve talked it through. You don’t only get one mistake. You get as many as you need until it works.”

Crowley was stunned into silence. Then suddenly he was laughing and wrapping his arms around Asa, lifting the Aurent off his feet.

“I’m glad you’re happy?” Asa sounded baffled.

“I’m ecstatic. Because you’re right. This isn’t Heaven. I don’t only get one chance.”

Asa followed the curve of Crowley’s shoulder with his hand until he was cupping his Guardian’s cheek gently.

“You get all the chances you need. Come on, let’s have a drink, and you can tell me what’s holding you back.”

******

“I think it was seeing him hold your hand that did it. Sorry, I know how petty that sounds.”

“Tell me why.”

Crowley sighed and wished he could actually drink the tea Asa had thoughtfully made for him.

“Because I was watching you touch and talk to a real Guardian. One who is still truly an angel. And he was so … so … beautiful and kind, as one imagines an angel ought to be.”

Asa shook his head. “As if I would ever compare you to someone else. You’re mine, Crowley. I only want you.”

“I know … and I trust you, my Asa. But when he talked of the part with the halo … I was so aware of how broken and strange mine is. Agnes - and all other Aurents - get a piece of something filled with divine light and love. And you get what? An eclipsed halo, devoid of divinity. How can I give you that? How can I ask you to accept it?”

“I believe, dear, that it is not your decision. Crowley, my love, I know how it is to feel defective. I know it’s not the same as being thrown from Heaven, but I still know what it is to fail and to feel lesser. Do you think I haven’t sometimes wondered, in the darkest parts of my mind, if you didn’t deserve a far better Aurent?”

Crowley started to protest at that, horrified, pulling Asa closer to him. Asa caught Crowley’s hand in his and kissed the back of it softly.

“I only know loveliness when I am near you. You will never be broken or wrong in my eyes. God was wrong. And if I am ever allowed into the Aurent’s heaven, well, I shall not tarry there without you, but I will certainly have a word with the Almighty should I get the chance.”

Crowley shook his head fondly. If any human could get into Heaven and tell God the right and the wrong of it, it was Asa. He was about to tell him so, when Asa turned to face him with that uncannily accurate gaze, and a look of such kindness that Crowley hardly knew what to say.

“Crowley, I am not suggesting you learn to see yourself as unbroken. I know that is the work of many years, not one night, and so I would not ask that of you. But I am asking you this - can you trust me? Can you believe that I do not see you as damaged? That I long for your essence and energy and presence, and want no other?”

Crowley thought back to the moment he’d saved Asa from the carriage. How even then, at a first meeting, Asa had been so receptive to his touch, and his love. He thought about the thoughtful little acts Asa had done since that night. The warm fires, the cups of tea, the incense he burned because Crowley had mentioned he liked the smell. The blanket he’d ordered. He shivered softly as he remembered the previous night and not only Asa’s obvious trust in and longing for him, but his gentle consideration of Crowley’s needs.

“Yes.” He smiled. “Yes, I can.”

“Excellent!” Asa wiggled with joy. “Now darling, as today was quite eventful I suggest we do not try the ritual again until tomorrow. Let us simply relax tonight.”

“How do you suggest we relax after all that, angel?”

Asa grinned. “I have an idea.”

*****

Of course Asa had a fully functioning bath with running water. Of course he did. He explained to Crowley that it was one of the few investments he’d made in the building itself beyond what had been needed to make it liveable. His landlord hadn’t complained, of course - it added value to the property.

“I find it relaxing,” Asa said, as he turned the taps on. “I thought maybe the heat of the water would feel good to you.”

He was right. It did. Crowley closed his eyes and relaxed back against Asa, who was sitting behind him, his ankles propped on the sides of the bath to make room for Crowley.

“May I bathe you? I promise not to get soap in your eye or be too vigorous with the loofah.”

“I would be honoured, angel.”

Asa set to work immediately, gentle hands wetting Crowley’s hair and soaping his body slowly and carefully, exploring the shape of him. 

“Angel?”

“Yes, Crowley?”

“At some point, we need to talk about this shop of yours. I want to help you wrest it from that blackguard’s hands.”

Asa laughed, close enough to Crowley’s ear that he felt the warmth of his breath.

“Arcane rituals first darling, dealing with Driscoll after. The Heralds aren’t coming until next week. Let us worry about that closer to the time.”

“I do think we need some sort of plan.”

“And we shall make one.” Asa lathered soap in his hands, and rubbed them over Crowley’s chest and stomach, then down his arms. “But quite frankly all I have to offer right now is a good working knowledge of literature, and some rusty but impressive billiards skills. You can affect my direct reality but not much beyond that, which means you cannot torment Driscoll unless I am practically sitting on him, and I have to draw the line somewhere. Let us focus on our next attempt at the Seeing, tomorrow. That matters far more to me. Now … you still seem tense …”

With that, he found Crowley’s hand and pulled it downwards, and Crowley had very few coherent thoughts for the next while.

Some time later, when they were entangled in the sheets, panting and clinging to each other as Asa recovered from Crowley taking him with rather more confidence than the previous night, Asa leaned up to give Crowley a long, shaky, kiss.

“Crowley … do you think about what it will be like after the Seeing?”

”All the time..” Crowley stroked his fingers through Asa’s curls. 

“And what do you think?” 

Crowley bent his head to his lover’s shoulder.

“I think I cannot wait to experience you with all of my senses. I think that I cannot wait to feel your skin warm under my fingertips and taste it with my lips. I think I will be lost to pleasure the first time I get to truly kiss you, to feel it fully, to learn your unique taste.”

Asa leaned up and pressed a loving kiss to Crowley’s mouth.

“I’m sorry it’s not better for you now,” he said earnestly, 

“It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

“Mmm, but it will be far better when you can truly experience it. And I cannot wait to see you. Crowley, I have barely thought of anything  _ but  _ seeing you since you first described yourself to me. I can hardly imagine how it will be to finally see your blood red hair and unique eyes, and your gorgeous moon-shaped halo. You are perfect to me.”

As Crowley pulled Asa to lie with him, curled together so he could hold his Aurent protectively in his arms and wings, he realised that he believed Asa. He trusted his Aurent’s love for him with all his heart - and he was finally ready for the Seeing. Closing his eyes, Crowley buried his face in Asa’s soft sunlight hair. He had thought himself incapable of a true bond with any Aurent. Now he realised all he had to do was love Asa with his entire heart, and that was the easiest thing in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates every Wednesday and Friday - stay tuned, and hit that subscribe button to be the first to know when the new chapter drops! Coming this Friday - a breathtaking full-colour art piece from Wargoddess9. I am practically tripping over myself in my haste to show it to you.
> 
> Thank you all for your wonderful comments so far! You have made my day. I love sharing Crowley and Asa with you all, and I hope you enjoyed their latest adventure. Let me know what you think :)
> 
> *****  
>  **Behind the scenes notes**
> 
> Sachiel is an original character from my (much angstier!!) longfic, Ghost Love Score. I hadn't planned to write an OC, but he just showed up one day and decided to stay. And then as I was writing Aurency, he popped up for a cameo.
> 
> *
> 
> Back in Chapter Four I told the story of the beautiful sketch of Crowley that Wargoddess9 did, and how it changed the course of this fic. This chapter contains one of my favourite examples of that. This section:
> 
> _Crowley was stunned into silence. Then suddenly he was laughing and wrapping his arms around Asa, lifting the Aurent off his feet._
> 
> _“I’m glad you’re happy?” Asa sounded baffled._
> 
> _“I’m ecstatic. Because you’re right. This isn’t Heaven. I don’t only get one chance.”_
> 
> Was all planned out as a super angsty moment. Then as I was writing it, my fingers typed this instead. This Crowley, you guys. He does what he wants (though isn't that just Crowley overall?)
> 
> *
> 
> And finally, I'm including this in the hope of giving you a giggle! Since I started writing fiction way back before the dawn of time, I've had a penchant for making typos that change the whole meaning of a sentence. While writing this one, I came out with one of my favourites of all time:
> 
> _"He turned back to Sachiel, reaching out for his hand. Crowley tried not to flinch, not wanting to make Asa self conscious about his lovely openness and kindness, but it was hard knowing the other Guardian could feel his **butt** fully where Crowley could not."_
> 
> No comment.
> 
> See you on Friday!


	7. The Seeing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Asa each have their own battles to fight, as Crowley receives an unexpected summons, and Asa must deal with the Heralds' visit prior to their purchase of his shop. But there's a much bigger question to be answered - will they manage to perform the Seeing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Mild violence. I've put a more specific note at the end in case you'd rather know specifically what you're going to see.
> 
> Further CW: Art so beautiful you might need a defibrillator. More talk about Hikaru9's amazing art, and other behind the scenes details, in the end notes!

“Morning, angel.”

Asa burrowed closer into Crowley, feeling warm and safe at the sound of his beloved’s voice. His bliss lasted only a moment before he remembered what day it was.

“The Heralds are viewing the shop today.” He grumbled, and felt Crowley stroke his hair sympathetically.

“We’ll save your shop. I do not know how yet, but I am determined.”

Asa reached for Crowley’s cheek, stroking it softly, then closing his eyes and leaning in for a lingering kiss.

“I believe it too. Now, let us up and breakfast like true Scotsmen. I am quite sure I have eggs. I shall make tattie scones, and the butcher in Hanover Square often has Lorne sausage. I’ll brew your favourite breakfast tea.”

He heard Crowley chuckle. “How do you know my favourite breakfast tea? For that matter, how do I? I’ve never actually tasted it.”

Asa smiled. “Mhm, perhaps it is a conceit on my part. Perhaps I am looking forward to the day when we can drink tea together and I can know your favourite.”

“Angel … I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to actually eat and drink, even after the Seeing.”

Asa’s smile widened. “Well, we shall, pardon the pun, see. You are part of my world now, Crowley, and I will not rest until you can experience it to the fullest. If Sachiel can do it, so can you. I will become the most skilled Aurent there is, if it means giving you the best possible experience of life.”

“Oh, Asa.” Crowley pulled him close and kissed him slowly. “I am already having the best experience.”

It had been a full week since Sachiel’s visit, and they still hadn’t completed the Seeing. Asa knew Crowley was ready. But every time he tried to press a symbol from his halo into Asa’s hand, he stopped short of touching his Aurent and could go no further. Asa had no idea how to help him over that final hurdle. All he could do was have faith that they would get past it together.

Asa had just finished his tea, when there was an unholy screeching noise, much as he imagined a bean-nighe might sound, heralding doom. The scent of brimstone filled the room, and suddenly there was a black-edged calling card in the middle of the breakfast table, its red-glowing edges scorching Asa’s best tablecloth. 

“I’ve been summoned.” Crowley’s voice sounded tense and a little fearful, though Asa was quite sure his Guardian would not admit to the latter.

“No,” Asa whispered, dread bracketing him like iron vines, holding him in place. “Crowley, you can’t go. What if you don’t come back? How do I … how do I get to Hell, if you don’t?”

“Probably be worse if I don’t obey, angel,” Crowley said. The summons sizzled and hissed, and Asa realised Crowley was touching it to discover its contents. “Apparently they want me to sign some paperwork releasing me to dwell here, with you, as your Guardian.”

Shaking, Asa got up and walked towards Crowley’s voice until he felt his Guardian’s arms tight around him, rocking him gently.

“Beelzebub is many terrible things, but oddly enough, a liar isn’t one of them. If they say they want to see me to sign off on me being your guardian, that’s what will happen.”

“Yes, but what might this paperwork entail? And what about Hastur? Crowley, it’s too dangerous. They could destroy you.”

“I’ll come back, I promise.” Asa felt Crowley tilt his chin up, and then his Guardian’s lips were warm against his, murmuring reassuring words as he kissed him tenderly. It was all Asa could do not to cry and beg Crowley not to go. But he knew that would only make it harder for Crowley to do what he must, and so he did his best to smile and be strong, telling Crowley to hurry back.

“Won’t be long,” Crowley said, and Asa could hear how hard his Guardian was trying to reassure him. Then the calling card vanished, and the shop felt empty, as if mourning Crowley’s lively presence but a moment before.

*****

“Mr. Fell!”

Gabriel’s booming voice filled the tiny shop as he ushered Mr and Mrs Herald onto the premises.

“Allow me to introduce Edward and Catherine Herald.”

“Charmed, I’m sure,” Asa muttered distractedly. He did his best to keep out of the way as Gabriel showed the Heralds around, having no desire to interact with them more than necessary. 

“Mr Fell?” Mrs Herald asked in a reedy, nasal voice.

“Yes, madam?”

“Tell me, is the business profitable? We will only consider a purchase if we are guaranteed our money back.”

Asa felt his insides churn with sudden anger.

“Purchase? Madam, the books and the business are not for sale! I am afraid you’ve quite got the wrong shop.”

Mr Herald, a tall, greasy man in a grimy top hat and morning coat, looked torn between punching Asa, or unloading some verbal abuse on Gabriel for misleading him. In the end, he did neither, but blustered and huffed his way out of the shop, his wife screeching and fussing in his wake. 

Asa hardly had a moment to catch his breath before Gabriel’s fist connected with the side of his face, sending him staggering into the desk behind him. He tasted the copper tang of blood in his mouth just before a second blow connected with his midsection. Asa staggered and went down, his shoulder crashing painfully into the edge of the desk as he crumpled to the floor. From the corner of his eye, he saw the gas lamp on his desk topple and smash on the rug, flames catching the edge of a pile of books.

“At least I can claim insurance this way,” Gabriel snarled, his boot connecting hard with Asa’s ribs. Then the door slammed shut, and the last thing Asa knew before he passed out was the acrid burn of smoke filling his lungs and the orange flicker of flame spreading up the pile of books in front of him.

*****

“Angel! Angel, please wake up. I can’t bloody well fetch help, can I? I need you to wake up! Asa ….”

There were hands on his face and in his hair, gentle as if afraid to break him.

“Crowley….?”

Asa’s eyes fluttered open. He would know that voice, that touch anywhere.

“Oh, the books!”

“Damn the books. No … forget I said that. We never damn books. Good books. I’m just far more concerned with you.”

“The fire’s out?”

“No sweetheart, we’re sitting in an inferno.”

Asa managed a snort as he struggled to sit up, Crowley’s strong hands supporting him.

“Cheeky devil,” he muttered, and heard Crowley’s rough laugh of relief.

“Asa, what on earth ….?”

“Crowley, how did you? The fire, did you …?”

He trailed off, coughing wetly and struggling to suck in air. Crowley rubbed his back as he did so. Asa could feel the tension and fear in his Guardian’s touch.

“Angel, we need to get you help.”

“Nonsense.” Asa pulled himself rather unsteadily to his feet, gasping for breath as the pain in his ribs left him feeling winded. “I don’t need help. I can stand, and breathe well enough. Not much to be done for smoke inhalation anyway.”

“I can’t even make you tea.”

Crowley sounded crestfallen.

“My love, I am quite certain you are the reason I am not dead. Give yourself a little credit. I do need a drink though. Please excuse me.”

By the time he’d drunk some fresh milk and taken several more shaky breaths, Asa managed to stop trembling quite so hard, though his legs felt unsteady as he walked to the couch and sat down beside Crowley. He immediately felt a powerful wing arched protectively around him, and Crowley’s hands took both of his, squeezing tight as if Asa might fly away.

“I came back from Hell to find you unconscious and a pile of books ablaze,” he said in a strained voice. “Leaned harder on the energy surrounding you than I’ve ever done before, until the vase on your bookshelf there toppled over and extinguished the fire before it could really get started. Shouldn’t have been nearly enough water in it but apparently fear for your life heightens my powers.”

“A real miracle,” Asa said, then the fear and tension of the last few hours erupted in a fit of hysterical giggles. “So your grand rescue amounted to breaking my vase?”

Crowley was laughing too, his hands tightening, as if holding on for support as he guffawed.

“I’m so relieved,” he muttered into Asa’s hair. “Asa if you were …. If you’d ….”

The laughter gave way to a hoarse sob, and Asa reached for Crowley, holding him tight.

“But I didn’t.” He gathered Crowley soothingly into his arms. “I didn’t, I’m fine, and you’re here.”

For a few moments they didn’t speak, but just clung together.

“How did this happen?” Crowley asked.

Asa told him. After a short silence, Crowley hissed, a menacing sound that made the hair on the back of Asa’s neck stand on end.

“He’ll pay for this. He’ll be sorry he laid a finger on you.”

Lost for words, unused to being so treasured, Asa asked the question that had been hammering at the inside of his skull for the last while.

“How … how was Hell? Tell me the truth, Crowley, what happened? Did they hurt you again?”

“It was … well, it was Hell. Damp and cold and searingly hot and deeply unpleasant. But Beelzebub was true to their word and signed the papers to release me from any other duties. I’m all yours now.”

“And …?”

He heard Crowley sigh in fond exasperation. 

“I really cannot get anything past you, can I? There was one condition of my release - I cannot return to Hell. I am earthbound. Unless I die .... which is very unlikely,” he added, quickly.

“But … if we cannot find a way to stay together when I die, you’ll be trapped here forever, alone.”

Crowley kissed him long and soft, pushing his fingers into Asa’s hair and letting his tongue flick suggestively at his lips. “An eternity here after our time together ends is a small price to pay for just one moment with you. Besides, we’re going to be together after you transition to Heaven. I am determined to find a way.”

Asa smiled a bit. It sounded impossible, but Crowley  _ was _ impossible. If anyone could make such a thing happen, it was Crowley.

After several moments of silence, Asa felt Crowley’s fingers brushing the side of his neck as he carefully straightened Asa’s waistcoat and adjusted his bowtie, the tenderness of which made him a little giddy.

“There was one good thing about my trip to Hell - I got some inside information about Gabriel.”

“You did? How?”

“Hell has archives on individuals, at least, on the actions they take that add points to their tally…”

“For the point-scoring you talked of? How utterly bizarre.”

“Truly.” Crowley pulled him closer. “But I looked Gabriel up and discovered that the reason he is so desperate to sell this shop is because he’s in some serious gambling debt. He owes a lot of money to some very unpleasant people. Not quite sure what we can do with that information yet, but we’ll work something out.”

“Did you look at my score?” Asa asked suddenly.

“Beg pardon?”

“My tally. Did you look?”

Crowley nuzzled his cheek tenderly. “Pretty sure you wouldn’t have much of a record. But even if you did, what would I care? All I need to know is that I love you.”

Asa pressed a gentle kiss to Crowley’s shoulder. His Guardian tensed at the contact.

“What’s wrong, my love?”

“If we’d done the Seeing, I could heal your bruises, mend your rib. Could have found help more easily. My insecurity could have killed you …”

“Now that’s a bit dramatic,” Asa told him, but gently. “It was hardly a great conflagration.”

“No, but it could have been. And your injuries are certainly real.”

“They’re hardly life-threatening. Crowley, love, I want to perform the Seeing as much as you do, but I do not want you putting yourself under pressure.”

“Asa … I want to try again. Now.”

Asa couldn’t help the huge smile spreading across his face. “Well then, I’d better tidy up a little.”

Asa paused for a brief moment of mourning for the destroyed books, before disposing of them. Aside from that, a light dusting of ash on the desk leg, and the smallest scorch mark on the carpet, there was no visible sign of the fire at all. He swept away the ash and disposed of the broken bits of vase.

After a few minutes, he heard a sigh from the direction of the sofa.

“Angel, I’m not the Queen. You don’t have to tidy up before we begin. I’m far more interested in offering you the deepest parts of my infernal energy and giving you power over me forever more.”

Asa chuckled softly and crossed to the sofa, sitting down and deftly finding Crowley’s hand. 

“This is the last time I’ll have to search for you like this.” He said. “In a very short time, I’ll finally be able to see you.”

“And I’ll finally be able to feel your touch.” Asa felt Crowley’s fingers in his hair. “I confess myself a little nervous.”

“Me too. But we’ll be together. We will help each other.”

“Asa, I … look, I know this is shallow. I mean, we’re lovers, you trusted me to be that close to you, for Satan’s sake ….”

“You’re still concerned I might not like how you look? Crowley, honestly, think about it. I’m going to get older. I’m going to have to trust you to still want me when I’m wrinkly and my ear hair has grown out of control.” He nudged Crowley’s knee with his own, trying to bring a little levity.

“It’s just …. Sachiel.”

“I have no eye for another man, or man-shaped being, my love.”

“No, but you do  _ have _ eyes. He was ethereal. Everything a Guardian should be. Even had the same colour eyes that I once did. I … it’s not that I don’t trust your love for me … I am just afraid that now you’ve seen and touched a real Guardian, I will seem lacking.”

“Crowley, I …”

“It’s one thing to say you accept everything about me when you have only your own imaginings, but quite another to actually see it in front of you …”

“Really, do you think me so inconstant? As the Bard himself said,  _ love is not love that alters when it alteration finds. _ ”

Crowley squeezed his hand then, and his voice when he spoke sounded more relaxed.

“ _ Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments, _ and all that.”

“Ah, so you do listen when I read sonnets to you.”

“Mmm.” Crowley’s breath was warm against his ear. “I love listening to you read. Can’t get enough of that endearing Scottish lilt.”

Asa blushed at that. “Come on, then. I should very much like to see your face next time I read to you, if only to see you rolling your eyes when I read Hamlet, because you prefer the funny ones.”

“I’ll always love that sonnet, though. Because even in the very earliest part of our acquaintance, I knew you were thinking of me as you read it. Your voice is just as expressive as your lovely face.”

“Quite.” Asa flushed to think he’d been so obvious so early, and Crowley had both noticed and liked it. “If we ever get married, we must add that to our vows.”

There was a long silence.

“Angel ….”

“I mean, I know we cannot legally marry, but if it was just between ourselves, who would know? Of course you might not want to do such a thing, forgive me.”

He felt Crowley lift both of his hands, and kiss the backs of them slowly, unseen lips tracing the lines and tendons. “With all my heart, Asa. You can have me, bond with me, in any way you wish. I belong to you.”

Asa found Crowley’s cheek and pushed his hair back, tucking it carefully behind his ear.

“Then let me see you, in all your strange and wonderful beauty.”

Crowley seized his hand and kissed the palm softly. “Yes … I need to be closer to you, better able to protect you. I want to hold you and feel your warmth … it’s time.”

Asa stood, pulling Crowley with him.

“Better use the summoning circle,” he said. “Helps raise the energy.”

Pulling back the rug, Asa found candles and placed them at each cardinal point, lighting the wicks. Taking his place in the circle, he held out both hands. There was a rustle of movement, then he felt Crowley’s long fingers close around his.

“I hope I can do it this time,” Crowley said, voice barely above a whisper.

Asa squeezed his hands tight, then gave him a little wink. “Be not afraid.”

Crowley gave a bark of laughter, the tension dissipating. Then he let go of Asa’s right hand, but turned his left palm-upwards. Asa gasped as the atmosphere turned electric, like the moment before a storm. Then he felt Crowley’s fingertip warm against his palm, tracing curves and lines upon it. As he watched, the lines started to glow a shimmering red, forming an arcane symbol upon his palm.

“Oh, Crowley …. It’s so beautiful.” Asa stared down at the symbol, which looked like two crescent moons, one waxing and one waning, connected by a horizontal line. He was afraid to move his hand, lest he disturb the precious sigil. 

“I’m holding part of your halo,” he whispered, his voice choking. “I never want this moment to end.”

As he watched the symbol dissipate, gradually sinking into his palm until only its warmth remained, Asa could feel his limbs trembling uncontrollably.

“I love you,” he told Crowley. “I love you, and I trust you completely. I never … I never thought anyone could see and love me as I am. I always believed I was broken. But I’m not broken with you.”

“Never.” Crowley’s voice was close by, and his hand was gently resting over the site of his brand. “You will never, ever be broken to me.”

There was a long, silent moment before Asa spoke again.

“Don’t just show me your unconditional love. I know that’s what Sachiel told us to do. But I think you need to show me the parts of yourself that you’re afraid I won’t be able to love. I think you need to know once and for all that I love you unconditionally in return.”

Asa felt a sensation like a cool breeze ghosting over his hands and face. It made his heart feel still and peaceful, as if nothing else existed save for Crowley’s true self surrounding him. He closed his eyes and felt something in his own heart opening like doors to the truest version of himself, where he was both loved and loveable. It felt like being held safe in huge, dark wings. 

“Crowley,” he managed, his voice breaking. “You’re unspeakably lovely. Please let me see more. I trust you.”

He was rewarded with a sensation as if every atom of his being was taking a long, cool drink after a day in the summer heat. He tasted red wine and desire, and bitterness and anger, and his nostrils caught the sense of woodsmoke and gunpowder and fear and sorrow. And under it all a constant chime of deep love and acceptance. Behind his closed eyes he saw a billion stars in a pitch black sky, and he knew that the sky was Crowley, and the stars were … them. Their love, shining together. 

He knew at that moment what Crowley truly was, how old and how powerful. He was whispering against every place inside Asa, brushing dark feathers inside the chambers of his heart, pressing long hungry kisses onto the inner walls of his soul. Thus known, it was the easiest thing in the world to show Crowley unconditional love in return. All he had to do was dwell on all the love he had for his Guardian, and trust that Crowley could see it. Asa heard a sharp cry of joy and wonder that resonated through him like a gong being struck, and then the space in front of his eyes began to shimmer like a mirage. 

He’d thought he knew what it would be like to look upon Crowley. He’d imagined that he would be beautiful, otherworldly, perhaps a little intimidating.

He hadn’t been prepared for quite how much seeing Crowley would feel like finding something Asa hadn’t realised he’d lost. As if he’d been made to gaze upon his Guardian and thus had never been truly alive until this moment. 

As his eyes met Crowley’s citrine ones for the first time, he saw swirls of golden stars rushing past them both. As he let his gaze fall on the long, bloodred curls that he’d already felt brushing against his skin, he felt a deep heartbeat, deeper than his own, something ancient and primal and  _ always. _

Tears poured down Asa’s face, but he could no more move to wipe them away than he could speak, overwhelmed as he was by finally seeing the one he’d given his heart and life to. As he watched, Crowley’s magnificent black wings opened wide, stretching as if testing their new corporeal form, then curving slightly so that the one closest to Asa curled protectively around him. 

They stared at each other. Crowley’s expression was balanced almost painfully between hope and worry. Asa could see that his Guardian was breathing hard, and he knew that he was too. He was struck by a sensation, as of reaching safety after a frenzied sprint from a pursuing monster, and the relief made him weak. 

He had only a moment to take in Crowley’s black velvet frock coat with its midnight blue lining, the elegant red brocade of his waistcoat and deep storm-grey of his shirt, before there was a crack like thunder and Crowley breathed his name in a tone somewhere between a plea and a warning. The room went dark suddenly, all lamps and candles extinguished, the only light the faintest brush of winter dusk-light from the window. 

Then a deep, golden glow arced behind Crowley’s head like a moonrise, casting amber highlights on the red fall of his hair. Asa watched in awe as Crowley’s halo slowly shimmered into being, the sweep of it like a golden crescent moon. The colour was sulphur yellow behind Crowley’s hair, the tips fading into a rich, bronzed red, as if it had been dipped in firelight. Black symbols, like the one Crowley had traced on his palm, adorned the edges of it, while the centre was a well of deepest night. 

“Crowley….” Asa stepped forward and was gratified when Crowley didn’t step back, though he didn’t move towards Asa either.

“You’re everything to me,” he managed to get out, though it was hard when his heart and breath were rhythmless, a near useless collection of fits and starts. “Oh, Crowley … can I touch you? Please?”

Crowley answered by closing the gap between them and cupping Asa’s face in his hands, giving him an adoring look, before capturing his mouth in a searingly passionate kiss. Asa kissed back with equal fervour, hands tangling in Crowley’s long hair. Crowley’s strong wings wrapped around Asa as he deepened the kiss, cupping the back of Asa’s neck to hold him in place as he slipped his tongue into Asa’s mouth, flooding it with the taste of smoke and frost. 

Asa muttered something unintelligible that might have been Crowley’s name, panting slightly against his lips as he wrapped both arms around his Guardian and held tight to him as they kissed over and over, exploring different movements and variations in pressure, as if determined to kiss each other in every way possible. 

“Asa ….” Crowley muttered against him, but the rest of the sentence was lost in a kiss so possessive that Asa couldn’t do anything but keen softly into it, fisting his hands in the fine brocade of Crowley’s waistcoat, utterly lost, and completely his. 

Crowley’s tongue pressed firmly between Asa’s waiting lips, swiping his bottom lip before pushing deeper, claiming him. Asa sank into it, following Crowley’s movements and letting him lick into his mouth over and over, shuddering when he felt Crowley’s hands roam down his back to cup his backside and then his thigh. 

Asa drew back only when his need for air became greater than his need to keep kissing Crowley. Catching Crowley’s gaze, he rested his hands firmly on his Guardian’s face, eyes never leaving Crowley’s as he spoke.

“You are the most exquisite thing I have ever seen. I could never have imagined someone as beautiful as you, and if you will let me, I will spend the rest of my life showing you that you are all I ever wanted or dreamed of. May I … may I touch your halo? Would that be allowed?”

“Yes, Asa, anything you want.” Crowley inclined his head slightly, and Asa reached out tentatively, wanting to use the gentlest touch. His fingers brushed the edge of it and found it cold as hail and hot as the summer sun, static shooting into his fingertips as they made contact. It was as insubstantial as a sunbeam, but it thrummed with power. 

And he knew. In that moment he knew exactly how Crowley’s core felt, what each symbol meant, what it was to be ancient, to have seen stars fall and civilizations rise, to have been created by God Herself. And he knew what it was to fall, to burn, to despair .. and then to find hope again in the arms of a human. He thought for a second he might swoon, staggering slightly, glad of Crowley’s strong hands holding him steady.

“Thank you,” he said, though the words trailed off into a soft moan of ecstasy and wonder. Crowley was shaking - Asa could feel his hands trembling against him - and when they kissed again, there was a soft vulnerability in it, even as Crowley pinned his wrists to the wall behind them and pressed Asa back against it, wings cradling his sides so Asa was surrounded by him.

“Asa,” he gasped between kisses. “I want you.”

Asa smiled up at him, stroking Crowley’s cheek and marveling at being able to see him, to see the heat in his eyes when he spoke the words, the wonder on his face as he rubbed his thumb over Asa’s lower lip and cupped his waist with his hand. 

“I’m yours,” he told him, fingertips caressing Crowley’s face and hair, drinking him in with his gaze. “I’ve never been anything else.”

When Crowley kissed him again, he kept his eyes open for a long while, lost in the sight of Crowley’s peach-kissed skin and dark lashes, the elegance of the long hands that played through his hair, and the fine lines of his features. Asa let himself be taken apart by the sight of Crowley’s black wings, and the red fall of his hair. 

Then Crowley bent to press a kiss against the side of his neck, muttering Asa’s name against the skin like an incantation, and Asa felt his blood turning to a star stream and his mouth muttering endearments in an angelic language that he instinctively knew because Crowley knew it. In that moment, they were one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates every Wednesday and Friday - stay tuned, and hit that subscribe button to be the first to know when the new chapter drops! The last two chapters *sob* are coming your way next week.
> 
> Thank you all for your wonderful comments so far! Reading them has been humbling and amazing. I love sharing Crowley and Asa with you all, and I hope you enjoyed their latest adventure. Let me know what you think :)
> 
> **Content note / spoiler**
> 
> Gabriel punches Asa twice (I know!!!!). It's not graphic, though mention is made of blood, and broken bones.
> 
> **Art note**
> 
> When Wargoddess9 and I first started talking, she asked if there was a particular scene I wanted to see illustrated. I explained that the Seeing is the heart of the story, and so we agreed she would start with that (and as you now know, she gifted me two other beautiful pieces of art, too.)
> 
> We talked about Crowley's halo, and she dreamed up not only the beautiful colouring of it, but the idea of the center of it being an eclipse, instead of his lost divinity. 
> 
> When I first saw the art I was speechless (unusual for me), and I may or may not have cried (I cried.) Writing a scene to do it justice was a challenge, but a very enjoyable one! It was difficult at first not to just describe Crowley's beauty for six pages, lol. In the end I figured the only way to truly do it justice was to write from Asa's feelings, his awe and wonder, and so that's what I did.
> 
> **Behind the scenes notes**
> 
> This chapter contained another of my favourite examples of this particular Crowley going off-script and refusing to join in with my angsty plotting. I'd planned for him to be weeping over Asa's unconscious form, when Asa woke up, and instead he said this:
> 
> _“Damn the books. No … forget I said that. We never damn books. Good books. I’m just far more concerned with you.”_
> 
> He's just a sass-bucket. Other things I had planned, that Crowley didn't like, included:
> 
> A much more drawn out process of finding out Gabriel's secret. He was tired of the purple-eyed bastard harassing his angel, so he went off to Hell and found out what was going on (I had no idea he knew about Gabriel's criminal dealings until my fingers were typing the words.)
> 
> A much softer, more conversation-focused end to the chapter. Crowley had waited a long time to truly feel Asa's touch, and he wasn't going to let a little thing like plot delay him.
> 
> What can I say? I'm not running the show at all here lol.
> 
> See you next week!


	8. The Bookshop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asa and Crowley can finally see and touch one another - but the question of Gabriel and the fate of the bookshop is still hanging over them. Will Crowley's plan to save the bookshop work?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 2:42 on Wednesday morning here in the UK, and as far as I'm concerned after midnight means it's officially posting day! I was too excited to share this final chapter with you all (but don't be too sad that it's over - there's still an epilogue to come on Friday.)
> 
> I'm gonna be honest with you, this chapter is 80% fluff and smut, with some plot in the middle somewhere. What can I say? They were so patient, waiting to see and touch each other properly, I can't blame them for being impatient now!

  
Crowley couldn’t keep his hands or mouth from Asa’s body. If there was a sensible part of his mind cautioning him to slow down, he couldn’t hear it over the roaring fire of need that could only be quenched by Asa’s touch. Asa was just as frantic, kissing Crowley hard and parting his lips so Crowley could push his tongue deeper, clinging to his Guardian like he’d never let go.

“Crowley.” It came out on a ragged sob, and suddenly one hand was in Crowley’s hair, tugging hard, sending shivers down his back. “Please, please …..”

“Angel…” Crowley groaned against Asa’s neck, overwhelmed with the feel of Asa so solid in his arms, the heat radiating from him. Crowley had thought he’d experienced the full use of his senses in Heaven and Hell, but that was nothing to the feel of Asa’s warm skin under his mouth as he pressed hard, sucking kisses to his neck, and his unique scent of tea and parchment. When he glanced up, Asa was watching him with naked lust, and the sight undid Crowley altogether. Every nerve in his body was alight with sensation and the intensity was increasing by the moment. He cupped Asa’s face in his hands, gazing down at him breathlessly. 

“Asa … I …” Crowely closed his eyes for a moment, tried again. “I’m so … that was unlike anything I’ve ever known….”

Asa reached up and tucked Crowley’s hair behind his ear, smiling at him as if he’d hung the stars. “I know. Oh, I know, my love ...” He was kissing all over Crowley’s face as he spoke, nipping at his jaw, trailing fingers up the back of his neck. “...but at this precise moment I find myself hardly able to breathe, please, Crowley, please just take me, don’t wait, I can’t, I need you ….”

The words went straight to Crowley’s cock, and this time when he kissed Asa, he grabbed at his sides and crowded him back against the wall of the bookshop. Thousands of years of waiting, of wanting, crashed into Crowley like a tidal wave until he lost all sense of direction, aware of nothing but Asa’s soft curves molding so perfectly to his sharp angles, and the way Asa impatiently met every rock of his hips, rubbing them together through their clothes. When he came back to full consciousness, he knew Asa was his true North, and he needed no other. 

When Asa reached for Crowley’s trousers and hastily unbuttoned them, boldly sliding his hand into them and wrapping his fingers around the hardness he found there, Crowley shuddered and caught Asa in a possessive, rough kiss, nearly snarling against his beloved Aurent as he undid Asa’s trousers in turn.

Dropping to his knees, he swiftly divested Asa of the garment, growling low in his throat as he pressed a heated kiss to the hard length of Asa’s shaft, still wrapped in the silky material of his drawers, sucking and mouthing at his already-swollen erection through the material. Overwhelmed by lust, he dragged the underthings from Asa’s body, pinning his hips to the wall and taking his cock as deep in his mouth as he could, tongue tracing the underside as he drew back and pushed down again, pausing on every stroke to suck decadently at the thick head. Asa groaned with every movement, and when his hips started to stutter erratically, he tugged at Crowley’s hair, urging him back up. 

Giddy, unable to do anything but give his Aurent everything he wanted, Crowley obeyed. He clamped his mouth to Asa’s in a desperate kiss, one hand grabbing the Aurent’s thigh and pulling it up against Crowley’s hip. The other hand dipped back to explore Asa with miracle-slick fingers, giving a hoarse cry at the tight clench of his entrance, the way it stretched to let Crowley inside. Adding a second and then a third finger as quickly as Asa could take it, he curled them to find the sensitive place that made Asa shake and twitch in Crowley’s grasp, rubbing it relentlessly.

When Asa moaned loudly and let his head tip back against the wall, panting and crying out with every curl of Crowley’s fingers inside him, Crowley couldn’t wait. Withdrawing his hand, he tucked his wings under Asa’s thighs, using them to pull Asa’s legs up and open so they bracketed Crowley’s waist, leaving his hands free to roam Asa’s body and hold him against the wall. Asa responded by reaching down and pulling Crowley’s cock free of his opened trousers, stroking it several times as if he couldn’t help himself, then biting his lip hard as he guided the tip to his own entrance. When Asa paused just long enough to trail his fingers through the wetness beading at the tip of Crowley's cock, then raised them to his lips and sucked them clean, Crowley felt like he was going to shake apart. Reaching down, he quickly used a miracle to slick his palm further, running it over himself before sliding slowly into Asa inch by inch, feeling his body tightening against him. Asa could’t stop shouting his pleasure, clinging to Crowley and bucking his hips. When Crowley could go no deeper, Asa whispered his name shakily, thighs straining against Crowley’s wings as his hips rocked and shook. Crowley couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but rest his forehead on Asa’s and gaze into his Aurent’s eyes, fingers tight on his plush hips.

“Tell me when I can move,” he ground out, legs trembling with the effort to stay still, feeling himself pulsing inside Asa. 

“Now,” Asa gasped, his eyes never leaving Crowley’s. “Now, now please, Crowley, I ….”

Whatever he was going to say was lost to a broken moan as Crowley drew back and pushed forward again, and again. When Asa scratched at his shoulder, leaving red tracks on his skin, begging Crowley to take him harder, he was helpless to do anything but obey. He let his body take over, pounding his hips rough and fast as every atom of his being demanded more heat, more friction, more of Asa. When Asa locked his legs around Crowley’s hips, pulling him in deeper and using the leverage to push down over every inch of him, Crowley was lost. He felt a flare of infernal power surge through him, making the air around them crackle. For a second, he worried that Asa might be frightened of it, but his Aurent only kissed him harder and rode him with abandon, as if seeing Crowley’s true nature lit a fire in him.

Crowley couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, could barely remember where he was or why he was there. His whole world was Asa - the solid, breathtaking beauty of his body pressed against Crowley’s, the scent and taste of him flooding Crowley’s senses, the tight velvet-smooth heat inside him. The only word he could articulate was Asa’s name, moaning it against his Aurent’s mouth as he kissed him fiercely, hips losing pace and stuttering wildly. Asa clutched desperately at Crowley as if he could pull him closer despite there being not a feather’s barb between them, tearing Crowley’s shirt open to get his hands against his skin. 

They were crashing into each other, hips thrusting desperately, mouths clashing in messy kisses that left their lips swollen and bruised. Asa broke away only to shout Crowley’s name, voice raw with lust, clenching repeatedly against Crowley’s cock as his whole body spasmed in orgasm. The sound of his cries and the sight of his cock pulsing as he found his release was too much for Crowley, who could do nothing except thrust hard and rapid into Asa until he came deep inside him, the sensation making him feel like his body had been rent in two by lightning. 

Asa was still panting and trembling as Crowley carefully placed him back on the floor, both hands on his waist to steady him. He leaned forward to rest his forehead on Crowley’s shoulder.

“Oh, you are more beautiful than I could ever have dreamed.” 

Crowley leaned into Asa’s palm as he cupped his Guardian’s cheek.

“C’mon angel. Let’s make ourselves presentable and get comfortable so we can talk.”

Asa laughed and flushed. “Crowley, if you think I can simply sit and talk with you, you are vastly over-estimating my self control.”

Crowley grinned. “Well, I am not sorry about that.” He reached down to gather Asa’s discarded trousers and underthings, carefully cleaning them both with a tiny shivery infernal miracle, helping his Aurent to dress, straightening his shirt and waistcoat. When it came to his own clothes, he gave his shirt a mournful look, then winked at Asa. “It is fortunate that I can miracle my own clothes.” He snapped his fingers and his shirt suddenly had the correct number of buttons, the previous occupants having scattered across the floor when Asa tore the garment open to get at his skin, and oh wasn’t that a lovely memory.

Asa leaned up and nuzzled Crowley’s cheek softly. “Can I at least make you tea now?”

“You’re obsessed.” Crowley teased gently. “Unfortunately not, angel. Things feel a bit more solid to me now - and your touch feels completely so - but I am not completely present in the world. Guardians are still ghost-like by nature, except not to their Aurents. Should at least be able to act in your reality more, though”

“Mhm … well I suppose I shall accept that for now, but surely you must know that I want to try the ritual Agnes did with Sachiel, to allow him to be so fully present in the world?”

“I do know, and I want that as well. But for now, I get to be present in _your_ world, and I find that’s all I care about.”

Asa smiled at that and stroked Crowley’s face softly, before giving a resigned sigh. “I suppose we really must discuss what to do about Gabriel. It won’t be long before he realises that he did not, in fact, burn down the shop with me inside it.”

“If he dares come back here, I shall test the full extent of my new powers, and he will not like the result. However, he is not here right now, and I find that after so long without touch I am quite desperate for more of it, yours specifically.”

Asa moaned softly at the words and pressed closer, leaning up to kiss Crowley long and slow, tongue lazily exploring his mouth. Crowley slipped his hand around Asa’s waist and was about to suggest they move upstairs, when they were interrupted by a hammering at the door.

“Oh for …” Asa sighed and tugged his waistcoat down with a grumpy mien. Opening the door revealed a squat, powerful-looking fellow with an ill-favoured look.

“Ligur?” Asa said. “What the blazes are you doing here?”

That Asa knew the man left Crowley thoroughly confused. He looked like quite the ruffian, hardly the sort of person Crowley expected his refined, gentle bookseller to associate with.

“Er. Boss sent me.”

“Your … boss?”

Crowley walked up behind Asa and wrapped both arms protectively around him. He had no idea who this Ligur was or what he wanted, but he was quite prepared to test his newly corporeal powers if he so much as breathed on Asa. Ligur, not being an Aurent, had no idea Crowley was there.

“Yeah. Um. Said something about the place burning down. Glad to see she was wrong.”

The fellow bit his thumbnail nervously. 

“Well I quite fail to see how your boss, whoever they may be, should know what happened to this shop, nor why they should send you. I quite think an explanation is in order, don’t you?”

Ligur looked taken aback, and Crowley couldn’t help a grin.

“Also, if I may say, Ligur, this sort of behaviour is quite out of line with the spirit of the Pickwick Club!”

“I … um. Boss doesn’t know I go there. She doesn’t like books.”

Crowley gave Ligur a long, cool look. Being in Hell had given him a good measure of his sort - keen to curry favour but ultimately cowardly and equally keen to escape blame or shame. Everything about his attitude said “underhanded dealings,” and Crowley was suddenly and powerfully reminded of Gabriel’s file in Hell.

“Ask him how much money Gabriel owes his boss,” Crowley whispered in Asa’s ear.

The question worked exactly as Crowley had hoped it would - Ligur was so surprised that Asa was aware of Gabriel’s debt, that he said far more than he ought,, confirming that his boss was the one Gabriel owed money too, and naming a figure that was just slightly less than the going price of the bookshop. Well, that explained the man’s urge to sell it.

“Tell your boss I should very much like to meet her. Deacon Brodies, tonight at 8:00 PM." Asa continued, following Crowley's prompts. "I want Mr Driscoll there, too. I have a beautiful edition of Great Expectations - yes, all three volumes - with your name on it, if you ensure they show up. Does that appeal?”

Ligur gave a reluctant grin. “Give my right arm. Or someone’s right arm, anyway.”

“Well then. Set up the meeting and I shall bring the volumes to the next Club meeting. Gentleman’s honour. Which frankly is more than you have, being mixed up with such sorts. What were you thinking of?”

Duly chastised, Ligur hurried off. As soon as the door closed behind him, Asa turned to Crowley with a frown. 

“What are you playing at, O Wise One?”

Crowley laughed and leaned down to give Asa’s jaw a playful nip, which earned him a delightful sigh.

“I know people like this, angel. Enough pride to float a battleship, greed that would make Beelzebub blush, and not a brain cell between them. I think we can trick them into betting with you to win ownership of the debt, so Gabriel will owe you the money. Then you can insist he pay the debt with the bookshop. All we’ve got to do is play on their pride, and their desire to humiliate him.”

“You make it sound easy.”

Crowley shrugged. “Evil incarnate, remember?”

Asa laughed and swatted his arm playfully, then paused and let his hand linger, gripping the rich velvet of Crowley’s coat. 

“You’re here. You’re real, Crowley, I can see you. Oh, I hope we can get this dealt with swiftly.”

Crowley’s smile widened at that. “Me too, angel. Me too. For now, however, where is the nearest billiards hall? Eight o'clock is not long away, and you need to practice.”

****

The night was already pitch-dark as they walked through the Old Town to Deacon Brodies. Billiards practice had gone well - Asa certainly still had the knack - and now it was time to meet with Ligur’s boss. Crowley couldn’t stop staring at the city around him. It was breathtaking. But nowhere near as breathtaking as Asa. Knowing his Aurent could feel his touch, and snuggle into his side for warmth as they walked through the snow, thrilled Crowley. He kept his wing wrapped around Asa as they walked, leaning down now and again to whisper teasing or encouraging comments in his ear until Asa was much more relaxed.

The tavern was crowded, the atmosphere lively and warm compared to the chilly night outside. Asa made his way to the bar for a drink to fortify his nerves, and Crowley felt his heart do a little flip when Asa ordered the only hot beverage on the menu - a hot toddy - and whispered a hasty aside that at least that way Crowley could enjoy the warmth of the drink.

Ligur, Gabriel, and a mean-looking woman Crowley assumed was Ligur’s boss, were slumped rather grudgingly around a table by the window, looking like they’d rather be anywhere else. The woman, who Ligur introduced as Dagon, wore clothes that were rather military in style, but tattered, while Ligur’s long coat looked like it had been dragged through mud. Their odd style made them look strange and out of place. They’d have looked far more at home in Hell, Crowley thought, giving Asa’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“Just say what I tell you, ok?” he said, glad for once that no one else could hear or see him. Well, he supposed some other Aurents might be able to, but as no one was giving him a second glance, he assumed that wasn’t a problem at that moment.

Asa nodded, his hand fluttering upwards for a moment as if to cover Crowley’s. Then he remembered, steeled himself, and walked over to the table with his head high.

“Gentlemen. Madam. Good of you to come.”

He sat down, and Crowley stood close behind him, both hands on his shoulders, rubbing soothingly.

“Mr Fell, what is the meaning of this?” Gabriel demanded. 

Crowley tried and failed to swallow his rage at the sight of the man who’d dared to strike his beloved Aurent. Curious, and ragingly angry, he walked behind Gabriel and casually tipped his chair backwards. When the chair actually moved a little, causing Gabriel to scramble for balance and thus look like a fool in front of Ligur and Dagon, Crowley winked at Asa, who was trying to stifle a laugh.

“Mr Driscoll.” Asa appeared emboldened by the realisation that Crowley could, and would, act on his behalf, more so than ever. “You’ve been dealing in some rather illicit activities, haven’t you … Sunshine?”

Gabriel glanced at Dagon, and the colour drained from his face.

“I’m not here to waste anyone’s time.” Asa rested both hands on the table, trying to look calm. Crowley quickly walked back to his Aurent, bending to murmur in his ear.

“Knock the drink over when you gesture. Tell them what we discussed.”

Asa quirked his eyebrow the tiniest bit, but said what they’d planned for him to say.

“I hear Mr Driscoll owes you a fair amount of money, Dagon. I wish to wager with you for the debt. If I - oh terribly sorry, how clumsy of me, here let me -” He paused to hastily mop the table with his handkerchief. “If I win, Mr Driscoll owes the debt to me.”

Dagon gave him a razor-sharp smile. “And if I win?”

Asa took a deep breath, and Crowley could feel him trembling. 

“If you win, you get my bookshop. It’s worth more than Mr Driscoll owes you.”

“You don’t have any right …”

Gabriel began, and Asa fixed him with a steely look.

“And you had no right to assault me, nor to attempt to set my business aflame. Not to mention your secret life as a gambler, who owes money to these fine people. You are fortunate this is the only action I am taking. Merchants talk, Mr Driscoll, and I am well acquainted with many of them in the city. Once your reputation is tarnished, you will find it much harder to do business here.”

Gabriel spluttered angrily and looked for a moment like he might rise from his seat. At least, until Crowley clapped a hand none too gently on his shoulder. Crowley could feel that his hand barely made contact despite his best efforts, but Gabriel must have sensed something, for he shivered and sat down again suddenly.

“I believe the deal was offered to me, Mr Driscoll, and you do not want to make me any angrier with you than I already am.” Dagon’s voice was distant, casual even, but her eyes were sharp and dangerous. “What do you propose, Mr Fell?”

“You and I will play billiards. Standard game, first to 300 points. I believe they have a billiards hall over at the Old Waverley hotel.”

Dagon looked at the still-wet table and gave Gabriel a nasty grin. “Done.”

As they strolled back to Princes Street, to the Old Waverley, Crowley kept Asa close, reassuring him that he would not let Asa lose his beloved shop. 

“Do you think he will settle the debt with me, though, Crowley? He is willing to give Dagon money because he is afraid of her.”

“Angel, by the time I’m done with him at this game, he will be afraid of you, too.”

Asa gave him a worried look. “I don’t want to .. get mixed up in anything. I do not relish the idea of trying to frighten anyone, even him.”

“You don’t have to frighten him. You just have to let me frighten him, if need be. Quite frankly, Asa my love, your understandable aversion to violence is the only thing keeping me from disembowelling him for what he did to you. Driscoll is getting off practically scot free.”

Asa tried to look reproachful, but his gaze glowed with affection despite the conversational topic. “Very well. Let us go and play the world’s oddest game of billiards.”

*****

The Old Waverly was all elegant, soft marble and twinkling chandeliers, and Ligur and Dagon could not have looked more out of place. But their money was as good as anyone’s, and a billiards table was easily procured. Asa picked up a cue and, on Crowley’s instructions, looked nervous and handled the cue as if he’d never held one.

“Make sure she gets her cue ball closer to the center baulk on the opening shot, so she can go first. And let her get a fifty-point lead. We need her to have a false sense of security,” Crowley reminded Asa, who was as good as his word. 

A string of flubbed shots, with the occasional win so as not to arouse suspicion, quickly had Dagon swaggering around the table, taunting Asa. Ligur and Gabriel watched from the sidelines. Ligur looked bored, while Gabriel’s forehead was beaded with nervous sweat.

“Start getting a few more points,” Crowley murmured to Asa, who was standing back to let Dagon take her shot. “The quicker we can wrap this up, the quicker I can take you home.”

Asa flushed, but managed to stay composed. Crowley grinned. He knew he shouldn’t use his invisibility to torment Asa with promises of pleasures to come, but it was irresistible. When Asa smoothly hit the red ball into a pocket, Crowley congratulated him by way of tracing the shell of Asa’s ear with his tongue, whispering to him that Crowley was more impatient to get Asa to bed than he’d ever been for anything in his long life.

The extra encouragement certainly did the trick, and the timing worked just as Crowley had hoped. Dagon was caught off-guard by Asa’s sudden transformation to expert billiards player, and started missing shots. By the time she’d committed two fouls, first by hitting Asa’s cue ball instead of her own, and then by jumping a ball clear off the table, Crowley knew his plan was working.

When Asa not-so-subtly tutted at Crowley, after the latter forgot himself and squeezed Asa’s backside, causing him to miss a shot, he stepped back to give his Aurent space to play, instead going to stand beside Gabriel and experiment with tormenting him in a far different way. Apparently, Gabriel counted as part of Asa’s reality enough that Crowley could nudge drinks from his hand, send a feeling of general dread that was powerful enough to make him shiver, and even, with a great effort, persuade a nearby decanter to fall on his foot. It was petty, but the man deserved it, and it kept Crowley amused while Asa leaped point after point ahead of Dagon. 

By the time Asa reached 297 points, it was obvious the game was over, with a frustrated Dagon languishing at 150. Every so often, she would give Asa a nasty look that Crowley took immediate note of. She would not like losing the money Gabriel owed her, but Crowley would make sure she didn’t give Asa any trouble as a result. When Asa hit a perfect winning hazard, pocketing the red ball for 3 points, Dagon just stared in horror. 

“I assume you will honour your part of the bargain, Dagon?” Asa asked, his voice firm, though Crowley could see that he was tense, his hands clasped behind his back to hide their trembling. Dagon looked for a moment like she would say no. “Or, I could let the rumour spread that you were bested at billiards by a fussy old bookseller.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Dear lady, I absolutely would. Now, I think it’s best for everyone if you leave me alone in future, don’t you?”

Dagon hesitated, then nodded brusquely and stormed out of the billiards hall, Ligur hot on her heels. She paused on her way past Gabriel, reaching into her pocket and shoving an IOU at him. “Take it. Consider your debt transferred, and I’d better not see your face around my haunts, got it?”

Then she was gone, leaving Asa seemingly alone with Gabriel. As soon as the door closed behind Dagon and Ligur, Gabriel strode across the floor, grabbing Asa’s arm, hard, and pushing him against the wall.

“If you think for one moment I’m going to let you have that shop you are sorely mistaken. I am not letting it fall into the hands of a dirty traitor. Oh yes, I know all about that filthy little brand. Had a bunch of soft idiots like you in my own military days, total disgrace to their platoon. Why do you think I wasn’t willing to sell to you in the first place? ”

Crowley and Asa moved at the same time. Asa grabbed Gabriel’s wrist and wrestled his arm away so he was no longer pinning Asa to the wall. Crowley moved in tandem, shoving as much hellish power as he could at Gabriel, grabbing his wrist in the same spot as Asa. Their joined intent made the air crackle, and suddenly Gabriel was staggering backwards, clutching a badly burned arm and staring at Asa in shock.

“I shall expect a letter from your lawyers forthwith, formally transferring the shop to me.”

“Are you stupid? I just told you that I will not - “

“Oh, you will.” Asa drew himself up straighter and looked Gabriel in the eye. “You will honour our arrangement, or bad fortune will tend your days.”

He gave Crowley a wicked little smile. Gabriel blustered a little, but then cast a glance at his blisteringly red forearm, and came to his senses. “Very well. I will have my lawyers draw up the paperwork.”

“Quite right. And you will have Redfearn and Bychance write into the contract that you will not come near me, my shop, or anyone I know, and nor will you instruct anyone else to do so. Are we perfectly clear?”

“Quite.”

“Good. And I would get that arm seen to, if I were you. Goodbye, Mr Driscoll.”

With that, Asa walked from the billiards room with his head held high, and his arm linked through Crowley’s.

“And not a drop of blood was spilled,” Crowley teased as they strolled towards the bookshop. “Barely.”

Asa turned to him, snow glittering in his pale hair and long eyelashes, his cheeks flushed with cold.

“We did it, Crowley. You’re here.”

“And we saved your shop.”

“As delighted as I am, that pales in comparison to you.”

Asa leaned up, cupped Crowley’s face in his hands, and kissed him long and deep, right there on the street, with the snow swirling in the lamplight all around them. 

“This must look most odd,” Asa muttered against Crowley’s mouth. “But I find I do not care.”

“Nor do I,” Crowley murmured. “But it is a little cold out here for me to strip you naked, and I don’t believe either of us has a fetish for public indecency, so shall we go home?”

Asa drew back enough to give Crowley a salacious grin. “Oh, yes, my darling.”

As soon as they were inside the shop, Asa shut and locked the door, and closed the drapes.

“Your shop is yours, angel,” Crowley said. “How does it feel?”

Asa gave Crowley a worried look.

“I am not entirely sure I like being gifted it by that awful man, Crowley. Perhaps I ought to offer to buy it - I could raise the funds easily thanks to those manuscripts you found me.”

“Asa … please don’t sell those beautiful manuscripts to line the pockets of that disgusting leech. You have poured not only time, but energy and devotion and every penny of your own money into building your book collection and taking care of the shop. It was always yours in all but name.”

“I … I suppose you’re right.” Asa appeared to be pondering for a moment, walking around the shop and reverently touching the stacks of books, and the slightly worn furniture. “Yes … yes, that does feel right. Thank you, Crowley.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank your skill at the billiards table.”

“Mhm, and your ability to singe Gabriel like an overcooked loaf of bread, which I must confess, in the end, I was not sorry about. So, what are you in the mood for now?”

Crowley closed the gap between them and pressed a long, deep kiss to Asa’s mouth.

“You. Naked and wrapped around me.”

Asa sighed softly, nipping Crowley’s lower lip and pushing his thigh between Crowley’s legs. “I am quite certain we can arrange that.” 

Crowley resisted the urge to shove him against the door and have him right there. He wanted to savour every second this time, treat Asa as beautifully as he deserved. Sweeping Asa up in his arms, he carried him upstairs. When he stood Asa beside the bed so he could pull the Aurent’s clothes from his body, Asa gazed at him as if mesmerized, occasionally reaching to stroke Crowley’s shoulder as if he could not quite believe he was real. 

Only when Crowley had done undressing him, hands lingering over every inch of skin he uncovered, did Asa move to divest Crowley of his garments in turn. When the last item had been discarded, Crowley felt utterly peaceful. This was where he belonged - completely vulnerable and open with the man he loved more than anything else in Heaven or on earth. 

“Oh, look at you.” Asa ran his palms over Crowley’s chest. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I could never have dreamed someone like you existed.”

“You can really see me,” Crowley said softly, overwhelmed with the truth of it. 

“And you can truly feel every touch.” Asa stepped closer and slid his hands around Crowley’s waist, wrapping both arms around him and holding him tight. Crowley could only nod, his breath catching. Their union immediately after the Seeing had been impassioned, necessary as breathing, and frantic enough that the details became a whirl of sensation. But this feeling, of Asa’s body so close to his, skin on skin, was unlike anything Crowley had ever experienced. “Crowley … so much love and tenderness that you ought to have had, and were never allowed. It seems so cruel.”

Crowley shook his head, crooking his fingers under Asa’s chin and leaning to kiss him deeply. “All I care about is being here, now, with you.”

Asa smiled at that. “Give me one moment, love?”

“Of course.”

Crowley couldn’t help smiling as he watched Asa light the gas lamps and build the fire.

“I daresay, I will not want to take my hands from you for a good long time,” he explained. “And it is bitterly cold tonight. I could not bear for you to be uncomfortable.”

“You are so sweet.” Crowley smiled as he gently took Asa by the waist and pushed him onto the bed. Leaning down, he pressed a long kiss to Asa’s mouth, teasing the seam of his lips with his tongue until Asa parted them and let Crowley slide his tongue inside. The taste of him, the heat of his strong, plump frame pressing up against Crowley as their limbs tangled together, was enough to leave Crowley trembling.

“It’s so much,” he managed to whisper against Asa, voice shaking. “I could feel touch in Heaven and Hell, but nothing like this. Never like this.” 

He wished he could show Asa somehow, explain to him that every brush of his body against Crowley’s, every sensation when Crowley stroked his fingers over Asa’s skin, was like watching stars being born, or flowers blooming for the first time. Asa seemed to understand, though, as he gently took Crowley’s hands in his and rolled him onto his back. 

“Let me take care of you,” he said, bending his head to feather kisses over Crowley’s chest. 

Every kiss was worshipful, and Asa kept pausing to gaze adoringly at Crowley, pressing hungry kisses against his mouth, then roaming over his body again. His hands were soft and sure, cradling and holding Crowley as if he was precious, fingers slowly inching their way over each rib, the curve of each hip, the dip of his lower back, stroking from ankle to thigh, and down the length of each arm. Crowley thought that he knew now how the earth felt when God created it. Asa’s touch was creating him anew, planting gardens of sensation in his skin, casting rivers of heat and wanting into his veins. 

Never having felt touch so keenly before, he had no frame of reference. He only knew that every time Asa stroked his hands over his skin, or pressed his warm mouth to it, it sent a bolt of pleasure down Crowley’s spine that made him moan and stretch to touch any part of Asa he could reach, stroking his hair and shoulders, pleading with him without knowing what specifically he craved, only that he didn’t want Asa to stop for a second. 

When Asa ghosted a kiss over the tip of Crowley’s already hard cock and whispered “is this ok?”, Crowley wondered for a moment if he could bear such intense sensation, when even the warmth of Asa’s hand on his waist was making him moan with pleasure. But he wanted Asa, he wanted him in every way he could have him. 

When he nodded and Asa carefully took Crowley’s length in his mouth, he shouted his Aurent’s name, body jerking sharply. It was so intimate, and that alone was enough to leave him gasping. Asa’s mouth was warm and deliciously wet against his most sensitive flesh, his clever tongue seeking out the best places to rub. But it was the way he moaned against Crowley, the way his fingers dug into the Guardian’s hips as he pulled him closer, as if he couldn’t get enough of him, that was Crowley’s undoing. He gently pulled Asa back, looking down into his ocean coloured eyes as Asa gazed up at him, panting.

“Angel, if you keep doing that ..”

“Mmm, that’s rather the idea, darling.”

Thus saying, Asa returned to his previous occupation, exploring and savoring, slowly swirling his tongue over the head of Crowley’s cock, to capture the wetness gathering there, before taking him deep again. When he moaned and unthinkingly dug his fingers tight into Crowley’s hips, Crowley couldn’t keep control any longer, groaning and shuddering as he flooded Asa’s mouth. When Asa carefully kissed his way lower to tease his tongue against Crowley’s entrance, he lost all capacity for coherent speech, responding to Asa’s gentle enquiry about whether Crowley wanted him to proceed by pulling his own thigh back in obvious invitation. 

“Are you sure?” he managed to whisper, stroking Asa’s hair. It was such an intimate idea, and Crowley found himself craving it, but he didn’t want Asa to feel out of his depth. 

“Of course, my love,” Asa replied, then dipped down and rubbed his tongue slowly against the tight muscle, making soft sounds of pleasure as he did so. When he gently pressed his tongue just inside Crowley, the Guardian felt tremors running through his body. When Asa started to move in earnest, tongue thrusting wickedly inside Crowley, he just groaned, insides clenching and fluttering against Asa’s tongue. Asa gave a low growl at the feeling, and Crowley shivered hard, filled with wonder that bringing him pleasure could feel so good to Asa, that his desires and responses could matter that much to anyone. He felt like he was floating in a loving night sky, held by stars, his body moving so easily in Asa’s grasp, each press of Asa’s tongue lighting a shower of sparks inside him.

Crowley closed his eyes for a moment and found it was hard to locate the boundary between himself and Asa. For one blinding moment, It felt like they were inside each other at the same time. It was strange and beautiful and too intense to bear, so that before he even knew how close he was, Crowley was coming again, tugging Asa’s hair, head thrashing against the pillows as he keened his pleasure.

When Asa moved up and slowly lapped every drop of seed from Crowley’s stomach, they both discovered that being an occult being had certain advantages. Crowley was already hard again, and eager to give Asa everything he could ever desire. Pulling Asa up to lie atop him, Crowley kissed him over and over, cupping Asa’s face in his hands. 

“My Asa,” he said softly. “Tell me what would please you most.”

Asa smiled adoringly at him. “You.” He said simply. “Being able to see you while we make love.”

Smiling back, Crowley wrapped Asa in his arms and carefully flipped them over so he was lying on top of his angel, settling into the warm space between his thighs. He took a moment to bask in Asa’s beautiful smile and the way he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes from Crowley, before bending his head to press gentle kisses over every inch of his Aurent’s body, longing to touch and taste every part of him. Asa moaned and shivered and clutched at him more passionately with every brush of his lips and hands, gazing at him with lust-drunk eyes and whispering between moans and gasps how much he wanted Crowley, how much he loved him. 

Every single touch was sacred and sinful. Nothing could have prepared Crowley for his urgent need for Asa, the feeling that he could spend eons brushing his lips against his skin, just to hear him gasp. Just to be the cause of his pleasure.

Feeling brave, Crowley let the black and red scales that sometimes appeared when he felt deeply emotional, spread over the insides of his wrists, the lines of his collarbones, and below his navel.

“Oh! Oh, how unique. Can I touch them?”

When Crowley gave his assent, Asa beamed as if Crowley had just given him a great gift, leaning up to press fervent kisses to the scales along his collar, hand reaching down to stroke the ones on his lower stomach. Crowley responded by wrapping his arms around Asa and exploring him, taking his time, savouring the heat of Asa’s skin, his cloud-soft hair and the way he said Crowley’s name. Asa wriggled delightfully with pleasure, shifting and rocking under Crowley’s hands. 

“I love you,” Crowley whispered against Asa’s neck as he lapped at the pulse there. “I have loved you since before you were created.”

“Crowley ….” Asa began, arching into Crowley’s soft touches against his chest and stomach, then trailing off in a moan as Crowley slid his suddenly slick fingers down to explore Asa’s entrance. “Crowley, when you let me see who you truly are, it was so lovely … can we do that again now? Will you … will you bring me home, to you?”

“Of course.” Crowley rubbed his thumb over Asa’s cheekbone, then followed it with soft kisses, entranced by the faint ink and sunshine taste of his skin. He scissored his fingers carefully as he kissed Asa, working Asa open for him and delighting in the way he moaned and pushed down into it. “Anything for you.” With that, he drew his fingers back and lined himself up against Asa’s entrance, his eyes never leaving Asa’s as he pushed carefully into him, letting his wings open and halo become visible as he did so. 

“Oh.” Asa’s eyes widened. “Oh, I will never get used to your beauty, Crowley. Can I?”

He gestured tentatively towards Crowley’s halo, once a source of such shame and now something he was truly proud of, for Asa loved it so much.

“Yes.” Crowley ran his hand over Asa’s hip appreciatively, rocking deeper into him. “All of me is yours.” 

When Asa’s fingers brushed the edge of his halo, Crowley felt infernal energy flare inside him, enveloping Asa like smoke. Asa closed his eyes and moaned, clenching tighter against Crowley, as Crowley’s infernal essence slid into Asa’s own like liquid gold. Asa seemed beyond speech, kissing Crowley desperately over and over, hands pressing against his chest and grabbing at his shoulders, legs tight around him. 

“I know you,” he managed to gasp out. “When I touch your halo, I know you, I know what you’ve seen and felt. I wish I could offer you the same in return.

“I think you could, if I ….” Crowley took a symbol from his halo as if they were about to perform the Seeing, but this time he pressed the symbol over Asa’s heart, watching it glow against his pale skin. Asa understood instinctively what to do, mentally relaxing and showing Crowley all of himself. Crowley gasped as he was enveloped in the feel of old parchment, the thrill of touching words from years past, the wonder of watching the night sky over Edinburgh, the pain and shame of being branded, the agony of rejection. He tasted Earl Grey tea and good whisky, and caught the scent of woodsmoke, the sound of a harp playing, and the feel of dewy grass as he wandered barefoot to St Margaret’s Holy Well on Beltane morning. 

“You’re beautiful,” he told Asa, resting his forehead against his Aurent’s. “I’ve never seen anything so lovely. Thank you.”

Time ceased to have any meaning then, as they rocked together, clinging to each other, looking openly into each other’s eyes, each of them lost in the deepest recesses of his lover’s innermost self. 

The world narrowed to the boundary of Crowley’s wings as they held tight to one another, kissing passionately, and laughing and crying together as their souls joined ever deeper. Every moment of inner exploration made them move harder together, grasping at each other and panting; every movement of their physical bodies drove them to twine more deeply together at a metaphysical level until there was no beginning and end, no separation, but only the moonlight and fire spill of two souls who were created for one another. 

When Crowley came back to himself, it was already dawn. The fire had burned out, but they were both warm in the blanket of Crowley’s wings. Asa was fast asleep, his breathing deep and easy, and even in sleep he had one hand closed around the edge of Crowley’s wing. 

Carefully, so as not to wake him, Crowley leaned down and kissed the tip of Asa’s nose, before settling close to his Aurent, delighting in the way Asa nuzzled into him with a contented sigh. 

When Asa opened his eyes and immediately smiled at Crowley with sheer delight, Crowley thought he might burst for joy.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he murmured, indulging in giving Asa a long, slow kiss, fingers tangled in his curls. 

“Hello, my darling.” Asa smiled against his mouth, wrapping his arms trustingly around Crowley and nestling close, turning to press a loving kiss to his wing. “What would you like to do today?”

Crowley smiled, trailing his fingertip along Asa’s cheekbone and wondering at the warm smoothness of his skin. 

“Anything you like, angel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One last update to come on Friday! Be sure to subscribed if you haven't already!
> 
> Thank you all for your wonderful comments so far! Reading them has been humbling and amazing. I love sharing Crowley and Asa with you all, and I hope you enjoyed their latest adventure. Let me know what you think :)
> 
> **Behind The Scenes Notes**
> 
> When I started writing Aurency, I'd planned one (1) sex scene. They're definitely the thing I find hardest (hush!) to write. But, in true Crowley form, Crowley wasn't having any of it. I joked that the final chapter would be mostly sex, but I was _kidding_. Crowley was not kidding. And Asa is not sorry about that.
> 
> Special mention also goes out to [Mira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraworos/pseuds/miraworos) who came up with the billiards idea when I was hopelessly lost on how to sort out the bookshop and make sure Asa got to keep it.
> 
> And, finally, this chapter took me the longest of all to write, because I kept flip-flopping between Asa paying for the shop, and not. I finally realised that Asa and Crowley couldn't agree and I was just caught in the middle of their fight! As you can see, Crowley got his way. Which is pretty much the theme of this fic, eh?
> 
> See you all on Friday for the epilogue, and a special announcement!!


	9. Epilogue: The Pledge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the bookshop safe, and the Seeing complete, Asa and Crowley have never been happier. But Asa wants to make one more gesture, to show Crowley the depth of his love. And he has a celestial call to make ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe we've reached the end???*
> 
> Writing this has been such a wonderful experience and I'm honestly super emotional about posting the epilogue. In fact, this is the latest I've ever posted, because I don't want it to be over!
> 
> I know this is the end of a fic and not the Oscars but I do have some thank yous!
> 
> Thank you forever and from the bottom of my heart to my amazing beta, [ Mira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraworos) for helping make this fic what I wanted it to be, and especially for helping me figure out how to tie up the bookshop part of the plot. Her ability to know what I'm trying to say is spooky!
> 
> The biggest of thank yous to [Wargoddess / Hikaru9](http://wargoddess9.tumblr.com) for not only three stunning pieces of art that I'm still not over, but for co-creating Cheeky Crowley with me, cheering me on, and for coming up with the mythology behind their halos.
> 
> Thank you to [Snek-Snuggles](http://snek-snuggles.tumblr.com) for their endless support, caring, and enthusiasm. I had some weird mental health days over the course of this mini bang, and their support made a big difference.
> 
> And finally, a huge loving thank you to YOU. This fic has some of the best readers in the fandom, and no I'm not biased. Your comments and insights and enthusiasm have SLAYED ME in the best of ways, and you made this author's heart very happy.
> 
> I think I'd better dedicate this fic to Cheeky Crowley, don't you? After all, he ran the show.
> 
> *Possibly ...

Asa came back to consciousness in tiny increments, drifting in and out of dreams of walking along a white beach, hand in hand with Crowley. Then he was awake, and lying in bed above his shop, that he finally owned. But far, far better than that, he was in the arms of his true love, his exquisite Guardian, for whom he was made. 

He lay for a while with his eyes closed, listening to Crowley’s soft breathing, feeling the warmth of his Guardian’s skin against his own. Crowley was sprawled on his back, with Asa tucked comfortably against his side, his head resting on Crowley’s shoulder. Even in sleep Crowley had one wing around Asa’s shoulder, and his hand was idly stroking his Aurent’s hair.

Asa slowly opened his eyes, breath catching at the sight of Crowley. He was everything Asa had dreamed of, and more. It was still a little difficult to believe that such a magnificent, immortal creature could love him so. But he did, and Asa trusted that completely.

He thought for a moment of waking Crowley and explaining what he was about to do. But he looked so very peaceful, sleeping soundly. In the end, Asa settled for leaving him a note telling him that Asa would be downstairs if he needed him, but to please warn him before entering the room, lest he interrupt his Aurent at a crucial moment. Then he pressed a gentle kiss against Crowley’s collarbone, whispered “I love you”, got dressed, and made his way downstairs.

The bookshop was quiet and cool. Asa took a moment to wander around it, drinking in the wonderful feeling of it being his at last. Then he made himself some tea and sat in his favourite chair to drink it, stilling his mind and making sure he was calm before attempting the ritual. Asa desperately hoped it wasn’t too soon to carry out another summoning, but there were things he needed to know. Carving the correct symbol into a candle, he lit it, and picked up the swan’s feather.

Sachiel appeared in a burst of light and seaspray.

“Thank you for coming,” Asa greeted him. “I’m sorry, I do realise you said not to call often, and I swear after this time I do not intend to …”

“But you want to know how to perform the Binding, naturally.” Sachiel smiled warmly at him. “I was rather expecting a call as soon as you had performed the Seeing, which I take it you have?”

Asa couldn’t keep the smile from his face at the memory of Crowley, his Crowley, becoming vivid and real in front of him. “We have.”

“I’m surprised Crowley isn’t here.”

“He’s asleep. I left a note. May I offer you some tea?”

“Tea would be lovely, thank you.”

When he returned from the kitchen, Asa had to stop himself from fumbling the teacups. Sachiel’s radiance lit the bookshop, and the air around him shimmered, as if he were displacing time and space with his powerful presence. 

Steeling himself, Asa set the cups down on the table and sat down, trying very hard to act normally. It was an excellent plan, and it was going well until Sachiel asked, with a note of concern, how Asa was faring after all he’d been through, punctuating the question with a gentle squeeze of his upper arm. The Guardian’s holy Grace sent a jolt of celestial lightning crackling through him, making him jump involuntarily, shivering as it passed.

“I’m sorry,” he said, flustered. “I do not think I will ever quite get used to you.”

“Just wait. It will become second nature after you do the Binding and start seeing other Guardians wherever you turn. You will get quite tired of us.”

Asa laughed. “I’m not entirely convinced. Besides, I am concerned that I … that I might not be seeing Guardians for very long. We have to wait a year and a day for the Binding, and I am already 48 years old ….”

He paused. He’d called Sachiel so he could get instructions for the Binding, in case there was anything to be solved or sorted before undertaking it the following year. But it was hard to keep his anxiety about their future from spilling over. Sachiel reached over and patted Asa’s hand reassuringly. “Something will work out, you’ll see.”

“How can you possibly know that? I appreciate your kindness, but I might not have that long, and then he will be left here alone…”

Sachiel didn’t respond, but his knowing look made Asa sat up straighter, meeting the Guardian’s deep blue eyes with a searching gaze.

“Do you know something? Did Agnes foresee something?”

Sachiel picked up his tea and sipped it. 

“All in good time. You must focus first on the Binding and not get distracted - that is what she told me. She did not elaborate further,” he added with a wry smile.

Asa huffed out a sigh, half amused and half annoyed.   
  
“You two really are well suited, aren’t you!” Asa said. “Some of your conversations must be quite enthralling.” He couldn’t help laughing. “Will you … will you tell me how to do the Binding?”

“Of course I will. Do you have parchment and ink to hand?”

Asa did, of course. And he wrote down all of Sachiel’s instructions to the letter. 

“I …. I did not realise it involves another Guardian.” Asa tried not to sound worried. “But I suppose it makes sense. It sounds very intimate and complex, metaphysically speaking.”

“It is. Do not worry, Asa. I will perform it, if you wish.”

“Thank you. I .. I do have a few other questions for you, if I may?”

“Of course. You know I cannot visit too often, so it is a good idea to squeeze in as many questions per visit as you can. Perhaps for the next one you might prepare a scroll?”

Asa laughed. He could easily imagine Sachiel and Agnes’ banter, and for a moment it hurt to know that he would likely never see her again, for he had no intention of going to Heaven if Crowley would not be there. 

“The first question is honestly a little presumptuous of me. Mr Driscoll’s business premises has apparently burned to the ground, and the bank repossessed his house to settle other debts, according to rumor. You … I mean ... of course you wouldn’t know anything about it …?”

Sachiel said nothing, but his blue eyes lit with a mixture of mischief, and righteous anger. Asa thought for a moment that his stubborn streak made him the perfect Guardian for Agnes, who had always favoured those who thought for themselves and were not afraid to break the rules.

“The second question is something that’s been bothering me for weeks. The night I did the Summoning, I was prompted by the Book of Aurency seemingly throwing itself onto the floor. I know now that Crowley could not have done something so physical at that point. Do you know anything about it?”

Sachiel gave him a decidedly un-angelic smile. “What can I say? I was wearing traditional angelic robes that day, and the edge of the book caught on my sleeve.”

Asa suddenly caught the Guardian in a tight hug, startling himself, and Sachiel as well, judging by his slight squeak of surprise. Sachiel hugged him tightly in return, though, radiating so much love and calm that Asa felt he was basking next to a cool lake on a bright summer’s day.

“Thank you so much! You started me on the path that brought him to me.”

“Dear, you being born started you on that path. I firmly believe you and Crowley would have found each other somehow, no matter what. But you are most welcome. Do you have any other questions?”

Asa smiled up at him.

“Would you be willing to perform a ritual of another kind?”

*****

Crowley awoke to find the bed empty, and a note waiting for him. 

_ I am downstairs making a call dear - I needed to chat with Sachiel. Nothing urgent, please do not worry. You are most welcome to join me, only please knock first in case I am mid ritual! Or if you would rather rest, the fire is well stoked and I’ve added an extra blanket to keep you warm till I get back. Love, your Asa. _

Crowley snuggled down under the blankets and closed his eyes, happy to snooze a little longer. Sleeping was not common in Heaven or in Hell, but he was finding he rather liked it, and to his surprise he found he felt quite comfortable with the idea of Sachiel visiting Asa. He dozed for a while, thinking about Asa’s determination to have Crowley be as fully corporeal as Sachiel. It was a tantalizing idea, and one Crowley was very much not opposed to, if it was possible. But for now, it was enough to hold Asa in his arms, spend hours caressing every inch of his body, mapping him with lips and fingers until he was as familiar to Crowley as his own self.

Before long, his angel rushed into the bedroom looking slightly breathless, as if he was bursting with a delightful secret.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Crowley reached out for the love of his long life, and pulled him down into a long, searching kiss that left Asa groaning softly and pressing more firmly against him.

“Hello, my darling.” Asa sighed against him, hands sliding over the planes of Crowley’s chest. “Now, before you make me forget my own name, I have a question for you.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow, curious. Asa was thrumming with nervous, excited energy. He took a deep, shaky breath, as if to fortify himself, then laced his fingers with Crowley’s.

“Are you … are you familiar with the concept of handfasting?”

Crowley shook his head.

“It’s … um … it’s a sort of a ceremony, you see. From the Hebrides, some scholars believe. A couple would have a celebrant tie their hands together with ribbon, as a promise to each other. And after a year and a day, if they wanted to, they could marry.”

Crowley smiled, though his stomach was starting to do its best impression of a gymnast leaping. “The same amount of time as we need to wait for the Binding.”

Asa nodded eagerly. “Yes, and as it matches so well, I … I thought that if you wanted to … what I’m trying to say is, would you consider having a handfasting with me? I … I know you and I are already one with each other, my Crowley. But I … I thought you might like the symbolism.”

Crowley answered by wrapping both arms around Asa and holding him like he would never let go.

“Of course, angel!”

“Just to be clear,” Asa’s voice was muffled by the fact that he was wrapped in Crowley’s embrace, with his face pressed to his Guardian’s shoulder. “If you wanted to, after the year and a day had passed, I thought we might have our own wedding ceremony.”

“That was very clear from context.” Crowley grinned, biting teasingly at Asa’s jaw and the side of his neck. “And I cannot imagine anything lovelier. I do have one question about the handfasting, however. Who do you propose we ask to be our celebrant?”

Asa leaned back and gave Crowley a cheeky grin. “Now that, I have already arranged.”

Crowley couldn’t help laughing when they walked downstairs, and he saw Sachiel sitting patiently on the sofa. Of course Asa had asked him while they were discussing whatever business they had (and Crowley intended to nudge Asa for information about that later). The other Guardian got quickly to his feet with a smile and opened his arms. Crowley was surprised to find that stepping forward to hug him felt totally natural.

“You said yes, of course,” Sachiel said as they hugged.

“Of course.” Crowley laughed. “Asa, you were confident, weren’t you? Having our celebrant ready.”

Asa flushed prettily. “I … I thought it would be rather risky to ask him to return to Heaven and then come back here again … I … did I do right?”

“Yes.”

Both Guardians spoke at once. Asa smiled, relaxing, then immediately got a look of horror on his face. 

“I did not think to buy cake! One cannot celebrate without it. And I have no idea what one ought to wear to a handfasting …or if I actually have any ribbon ...”

“I can go and procure cake and ribbons, while you both decide what to wear.”

Asa stared at Sachiel. Crowley was sure his own countenance must be one of baffled shock.

“You can … you can do that?” Asa asked, sounding flabbergasted. “Agnes’ ritual made you that corporeal?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Is this … is this something Crowley and I will be able to do?”

Crowley dug his nails into his palms to hide the sudden trembling in his hands.

“I truly hope so. Unfortunately, as it is a secret ritual, only Agnes can tell you how to do it. But please, please do not despair. You know her, Asa - she would not let you down. She will have left instructions somewhere, or she will devise some way to tell me that does not technically break any rules. I cannot imagine she would leave you without the knowledge of how to make Crowley as corporeal as I am.”

“No … no, nor can I.”

Asa sounded a little disappointed, but Crowley could see he was satisfied with the answer. Personally he would have liked something a little more concrete, but in truth, he knew he would be happy staying exactly as he was for the rest of time, so long as he got to be close to Asa.

As the doorbell jingled merrily shut behind Sachiel, Crowley turned to Asa and shook his head in wonder.

“We’re really going to do this. It’s so … so …”

“Sentimental?” Asa said with a shy smile that had Crowley striding over to him and distracting him from the thought with a long, deep kiss.

“Romantic, angel. It’s so romantic.”

Asa reached up and stroked Crowley’s face with a feather-light touch. “I just want to demonstrate my commitment to you. And I confess, I rather love the idea of being your betrothed.”

Crowley felt a delightful shiver run down his spine.

“Me too, angel. Very much. Is there anything you’d like me to wear, especially?”

“You always look so handsome, Crowley. But I should love it if you wore the outfit you had on the night of the Seeing. As a reminder. May I ask you the same question?”

Crowley couldn’t help grinning. “I was going to suggest the outfit you had on the night you performed the Summoning.”

“So, the things we were wearing when we first saw one another, then?” Asa laughed.

“Seems so.” Crowley kissed the top of his head, marvelling at the softness of his curls. “Do you like this for the location? Edinburgh is so beautiful, if you wanted to find something more dramatic …”

“Are you … are you not happy with the bookshop?”

“Oh, angel.” Crowley nuzzled his hair. “I would be happy in a byre. I just want you to have the best of everything.”

“Well, I have that. I have you. I … I rather like the idea of having our handfasting in the place we first met, where I first saw you, and got to kiss you.”

Crowley loved the idea, and said so. Sachiel returned at that moment with cake, champagne, and a bouquet of blue hyacinth and forget-me-nots, with yellow roses and pansies. How he’d found any of them in Edinburgh in winter was a mystery.

“Blue for Asa’s eyes, and yellow for Crowley’s halo,” Sachiel explained, as he showed them lengths of ribbon in colours that matched the flowers.

“Sachiel?” Asa sounded a little worried. “I just want to check that you will not get into trouble for this?”

Sachiel paused from where he’d been arranging the flowers in a vase. “You were wise to suggest I stay and do the ceremony now, so as not to visit earth too often. Heaven tracks how often I leave, and the general direction, hence it not being wise for me to be over-frequent in my visits. But beyond that, Guardians are given a fair amount of freedom to come and go on earth. Despite us being created to bond with Aurents, in practice God and most other angels are simply not that interested in what humans, even Aurents, are doing, so we are mostly left alone.”

“Sounds about right,” Crowley muttered. “They only care about rewarding or punishing them after the fact. And God would much rather angels sing Her praises, than actually do anything useful on earth.”

Sachiel nodded agreement, and Crowley smiled a bit. It was … dare he say a miracle … that Sachiel had escaped falling, but Crowley was glad he had. Though being calmer than at their last meeting, he could not help noticing a lattice of scars around each of Sachiel’s wrists, flashing into view when his movements caused his sleeves to ride up. Sachiel caught his gaze and gave him a quick smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“As I said, I have some scars. But come, this is a day to celebrate. I hope you both realise I have not the first idea what I am doing.”

Asa laughed. “Well that makes three of us.”

“Might I just …?” Sachiel made a complex gesture with his hand, and suddenly they were standing in a circle that shimmered with sigils, edged with candles in tiny jewel-colored glass holders and posies of forget-me-nots and pansies. The scent of sandalwood incense drifted through the air.

“Won’t Uriel call that a frivolous miracle?” Crowley teased a little. 

“Probably, but I don’t think it’s big enough to attract attention. Now - would you like to begin?”

Crowley smiled adoringly at Asa.

“I would.”

*****

Asa couldn’t tear his eyes from Crowley as they stood together in the circle. His Guardian was looking at him with such love and pride, as if he couldn’t believe Asa was his. When Sachiel started weaving the blue and yellow ribbons around their joined hands, Crowley dropped his gaze for a moment to take in the sight of their hands wrapped in ribbon, then returned to watching Asa with a sort of quiet awe that left Asa weak.

“Love is magic,” Sachiel told them, as he carefully bound their hands. “Fate may have connected you, but your own loyalty and openness created the love you have for each other. You don’t need the blessing of any other, so I will simply wish you a joyous year and a day, and a long and happy eternity.”

“Thank you,” Asa managed to say, though it was hard when he was overcome with joy to the point of tears. “Crowley, I know our bond goes beyond human conventions, but I wanted you to have this, for our love to be witnessed. I want to remind you that I am yours, always and in all ways.”

Crowley smiled, and Asa could feel his Guardian’s hand trembling against his own. 

“My Asa.” He leaned down and nuzzled the tip of Asa’s nose. “I would have gladly waited eons more for you, but I am thankful I didn’t have to. I’m so glad you’re mine. I promise to spend the rest of your life making you happy, and the rest of mine making sure we can never be parted.”

As Sachiel unbound their hands, Asa leaned up and kissed Crowley lovingly, savouring the feel of his lips against Asa’s own. Crowley kissed back, wrapping an arm around Asa’s waist. When he broke the kiss and drew back, his golden eyes were alight with joy, and Asa could have sworn he saw an aura of deep purple and stars around him.

“Time for that cake, huh?” he said with a grin, and Asa laughed. “Sachiel, will you stay? Do you have time?”

“I have a little time yet, yes. I also have a handfasting gift for you, if you would like it.”

Asa’s curiosity was piqued, and Crowley’s eyebrows shot up as he regarded Sachiel with a questioning look. They were starting to get along so well, and it thrilled Asa. Being ostracized from his own family was hard enough; he could scarcely imagine what Crowley had been through. Having a Guardian friend seemed good for him.

“Crowley, I think if you were interested, I could transfer a sliver of my power to you. You remember that Angels could do that? Share energy and lend their strengths to each other?”

Crowley nodded and narrowed his eyes, but there was no distrust in his look, just curiosity.

“I cannot make you fully corporeal - only Asa can do that. And I would not be so reckless as to transfer enough of my energy to attract attention. But I could share a tiny thread, as it were, bent to a specific purpose. I thought I might use it to tweak how you interact with the world so you can eat and drink. It would only work when you were in Asa’s vicinity, but it would give you the ability to share meals together. Which I realise isn’t much really, but …”

“That sounds wonderful!” Asa exclaimed.

“That’s so thoughtful.” Crowley looked quite overcome with emotion. “What a lovely gift. I accept, with thanks.”

Sachiel offered Crowley his hand. Crowley took it, his other hand still squeezing Asa’s tight.

“Your, um, your divinity won’t hurt, right?”

“Did it hurt to hug me?”

“Ah … point taken.”

Asa watched, fascinated, as Sachiel closed his eyes and let his halo shimmer into existence, a golden circle with silver symbols, and a centre of such brilliant white that Asa couldn’t look directly at it. Then he reached up and twined a tiny thread of energy around his finger, before laying the thread carefully in Crowley’s palm. Asa noticed that the golden thread did not immediately pass into Crowley’s corporation, and it occurred to him that Sachiel was giving Crowley full control of the situation. Crowley studied the tiny thread for a moment, then it glowed into life, and vanished.

“Thank you,” Crowley said softly, the simple words belied by his tone of wonder. He didn’t need to say anything else. Asa knew he was amazed that Sachiel didn’t see him as broken, and was comfortable sharing a little energy with him. Sachiel reached for Asa’s free hand.

“To connect you with the energy I gave Crowley,” he explained as Asa took his hand. Then Asa felt a sensation as if sunlight was filling his veins, shimmering up his arm and across his chest into his heart. 

“Now.” Sachiel let go of them both. “That should have done the trick. Just remember it will only work when Asa is with you.”

“What will happen if he isn’t? Cake sliding away from me? Dueling sandwiches?”

Sachiel laughed. “Nothing so drastic. You won’t be able to touch or pick up any vittles, or utensils. It’s terribly mundane.”

“Crowley saved my life by breaking a vase,” Asa said with a grin. “We don’t go in for big gestures here.”

Crowley tried to look offended, but ended up just beaming at Asa. For his part, Asa felt like he might overflow, for the happiness inside him was so great it seemed impossible that one person could contain it.

“Try it, then,” Sachiel said with a grin. “You’re keeping me in terrible suspense.”

Asa smiled at Crowley, then cut two slices of cake. One, he gave to Sachiel. The other, he cut off a forkful of and offered said forkful to Crowley, who obliged by eating the proffered bite, eyes never leaving Asa’s. His slitted pupils widened and one eyebrow quirked up as he swallowed the cake with an appreciative sound.

“Good?” Asa smiled. Crowley nodded, looking slightly stunned. 

“Never thought I’d be able to do that. Thank you, Sachiel.”

The other Guardian nodded in acknowledgement. “It’s only a small thing, but I am glad if it brings extra joy to your life together. I should go.” He added, standing. “Asa, I will be in touch before the Binding, as that is over a year away. As often as it is safe to. Crowley, please ask Asa to summon me if you need my help.”

“Thank you.” Asa stood too, then paused. “Are you … are you sure you’ll be ok?”

“Quite certain. As I said, I am good at escaping notice or at least, escaping the worst punishments. Besides, although we must be a little cautious, visiting earth and visiting other Aurents, especially one related to my own, is well within my remit. Take care of each other.” 

There was a burst of light that left Asa feeling like he’d looked too long at the sun, and the bookshop took on the faint scent of seaspray. Then he was gone. Asa scooted along the sofa to where Crowley was sitting and carefully perched on his Guardian’s lap.

“How are you feeling?”

“Happier than I thought it was possible to be.” Crowley leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to Asa’s mouth. “And contemplating eating my way through half the food in your kitchen.”

Asa laughed and kissed Crowley’s temple, brushing his long red hair back. “Then you must let me cook you your first meal. I make a very good kedgeree, and I do have some smoked haddock in the ice box …”

“A what?” Crowley looked confused.

“Kedgeree. Smoked fish and rice with boiled eggs, onions and spices. It sounds odd but oh trust me, it is delicious.”

Crowley smiled at Asa as if he’d just given him the world. 

“I’m sure I’ll love anything you make me. But none of it is going to be as tempting as you.” He tucked his fingers gently under the knot of Asa’s cravat and pulled him closer for a heated kiss. “As eager as I am to explore further epicurean delights, I am far more eager to explore further carnal delights with you.”

Asa laughed, though it came out shaky as Crowley’s kiss, his words, made him shiver.

“And you call me insatiable.”

Crowley treated him to that wicked grin that Asa knew he’d always be amazed by.

“Are you complaining?”

“Not even a little bit,” Asa said, and then captured Crowley’s mouth in another searing kiss. 

*****

Judging by the pale light creeping around the edges of the curtains, it was morning. Crowley had long since ceased to care about the passage of time, being far too preoccupied with his beautiful Aurent. The same Aurent who was sleeping soundly with his head resting on Crowley’s chest, one arm flung across Crowley’s body.

Like all Guardians Crowley could see well in the dark. And so, after Asa had fallen asleep in his arms, sweat-soaked curls clinging to his forehead, body only ceasing to tremble with aftershocks when he drifted into sleep, Crowley had spent the night gazing at him. His mind had wandered into worrying about the future once or twice, but he’d relentlessly pulled it back from those thoughts, like a herd of unruly horses. They were together. Everything else would work out. Crowley would see to that.

For the next little while, he planned to do nothing more than enjoy spending every day with Asa, relishing finally being able to touch him. They could go for long walks around the city. He would accompany Asa to concerts and poetry readings and the Pickwick Club, if Asa would have him along, so he could whisper comments to his lover, hold him close, keep him warm in his wings. He would try every food and drink Asa suggested, because Asa suggested it. And if Asa wanted to, Crowley would spend every night exploring the best ways to make him lose control, for the sheer pleasure of hearing and seeing him come undone again and again in Crowley’s arms.

For the moment, though, Crowley had to tear himself away, just for a few minutes. He had an experiment to carry out. Very carefully, so as not to disturb his sleeping love, he moved Asa from off his chest, and made his way downstairs.

This might be a futile experiment, Crowley thought, as he stared at the various accoutrements in the kitchen. But logically, it should work. He was capable of touching Asa’s clothes (usually to remove them). He could adjust the bedclothes if they were both in bed. Surely with a little energetic pressure he could touch utensils and food. He just had to convince them that this was merely an extension of his new-found ability to eat and drink, and nothing more.

The teapot certainly did not agree, firmly resisting Crowley’s first few attempts to pick it up. But then he worked out that he could bend the rules a little if he concentrated hard on the feeling of sharing food and beverages with Asa, and used that feeling to power his actions. It was such a small thing, but so often since they’d met, Crowley had longed for the simple human action of making his lover a hot drink, to bring him comfort and warmth. 

When he returned to the bedroom, tea tray in hand, he found Asa still dozing, looking so peaceful that Crowley decided a little infernal miracle to keep the tea warm was in order. But when he slid between the covers, Asa’s eyes fluttered open, and his face broke into a beatific smile.

“Crowley.”

“The one and only.” Crowley pulled Asa close and greeted him with a good morning kiss, sighing softly as he drew back, rubbing his thumb over Asa’s lower lip.

“How is it that you’re more beautiful every time I see you?” he enquired. Asa made a bashful dismissive motion, but his eyes sparkled at the words. Then he spotted the tea tray and his eyes widened.

“How did you …?”

“Force of will and a stubborn commitment to rule breaking. I know it’s only tea. But I wanted to make it for you.”

“That was so nice of you.”

“I’m fallen. I’m not nice. I’m never nice.”

Asa pursed his lips in that adorably intractable way he had.

“If you say so, dear. Now, shall I pour?”

As they sat together in bed, sipping tea (which was earthy and smoky and delicious, Crowley found) and listening to the sounds of the city just outside the window, Crowley wondered if it was possible to be any happier. As Asa put his cup down and turned to gaze wonderingly at him, pressing a series of adoring kisses to his face, Crowley decided that no, it was impossible to be any happier. Quite frankly, even his immortal heart wouldn’t be able to stand much more.

“Now we finally get to find out your favourite breakfast tea,” Asa teased, tucking his head into the crook of Crowley’s neck and draping his arm around his waist, relaxing into his Guardian’s embrace.

“Pretty sure my favourite will be any that I get to drink with you,” Crowley told him, leaning down and pressing a kiss into his soft hair. “I’m pretty sure my favourite of everything can be narrowed down to getting to share it with you.”

Asa looked up at him then, eyes bright. “You’re mine,” he whispered softly, as if still surprised by it, fingers gently mapping Crowley’s face, exploring the edge of a cheekbone, brushing suggestively against his lips.

“All yours, angel,” Crowley agreed. “From now until the edge of forever.”

“And beyond that?”

Crowley tucked Asa’s hair behind his ear, feathering kisses over his face until Asa closed his eyes, sighing softly with pleasure.

“I’ll still be yours. I’ve never been anything else.”

Asa kissed him in earnest then, fingers twining in Crowley’s hair, then brushing the edge of his halo as it sparked into existence. Time seemed to stop as they reached for each other like moonlight spilling over dark water, lifting them out of the present and into the eternal now where there was no beginning and no end, but only the endless pulse of starfire writing a love story on the parchment of the universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Behind The Scenes Notes**
> 
> I hadn't planned for Sachiel to make a second appearance. He's apparently been taking lessons from Cheeky Crowley on how to take charge of a fic.
> 
> Fun fact: Kedgeree is one of my favourite foods! I remembered reading that it became popular in the UK in Victorian times, so I couldn't resist adding it!
> 
> I didn't know what the epilogue was about until I sat down to write it. I suspect Asa was plotting the handfasting and didn't want me to know before Crowley knew. All I knew for sure is that I wanted some pure happy fluff, that involved Crowley waking up in bed feeling content and in love. And I got that!
> 
> **Exciting Announcement One!**
> 
> I am already planning Aurency 2!! Did you think I'd leave you all hanging, with the Binding not done yet? ♥
> 
> I do want to finish the epic angst-and-smut fest that is Ghost Love Score first, so I'm currently thinking early - mid 2021. Earlier if I can! If you're subscribed to the work only, might I suggest subscribing to my account, so you'll be the first to know when it starts?
> 
> **Exciting Announcement Two!**
> 
> You're not going to have to go without a Crowley and Asa fix until the sequel! Later this month I'm launching an ongoing series of one-shots and author's notes. Think of it as a combination of deleted scenes, behind the scenes, and bloopers (yes, I said bloopers.) I'd love to see you there, so hit subscribe on my main page if you haven't already!
> 
> **Need To Talk GO?**
> 
> Of course you do! The Do It With Style Events [ Discord](https://discord.com/invite/rAKndEQ) is a super chill, friendly place, and I highly recommend you check it out! You can join to keep up with events, but you can also join just for the fun of meeting other fans, no pressure.
> 
> You can also find me on [Tumblr](http://www.zadusk.tumblr.com). I'm always up for talking GO and writing, so feel free to hit me up!
> 
> **Need more GO fic? I got you!**
> 
> In the mood for some more sweet, soft romance? [All The Seasons Of My Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21640552) (completed fic) is a gentle, pining, mild angst with a happy ending historical fic, following Crowley and Aziraphale's love story as told over many, many winter seasons together.
> 
> After some cathartic angst? [Ghost Love Score](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21141407) is a dark, sexy, angsty amnesia fic-in-progress. You think Cheeky Crowley is a handful? GLS Crowley is pushing so many envelopes he could open his own stationery shop. But there's lots of love and loyalty and bravery with the angst, and there is going to be a happy ending. Though I will say, read the tags before you start, because this one's not gonna be everyone's cup of tea.
> 
> If you enjoyed the e-rated parts of this fic, you might enjoy [Incandescent!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22705738) Featuring stolen moments, first times, and Crowley absolutely not being responsible for Valentine's Day at all (at least that's what he'd like you to believe.)
> 
> I also have several one shots featuring everything from true!form sex to fluffy Tadfield adventures to snake!Crowley. Check out my [works](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snakeandmoon/works) at the link.
> 
> And that's it for now! I'll see you soon ★


	10. Extra Chapter: Line Art!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers! Wargoddess9 scanned the gorgeous lineart from chapters one and seven so we could share it with you!
> 
> I'm not saying to expect more behind the scenes sketches in the one-shots-and-deleted-scenes reel (that will have a real name, I promise.) But I'm certainly not denying it ;)
> 
> Look for that starting at the end of the month, but for now, please enjoy these gorgeous sketches!

Wargoddess: if y'all want to DL and color these feel free!


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